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AN 



OYERLAND JOURNEY, 



NEW YOUK TO SAN FEANCISCO, 



THE SUMMER OF 1859. 



liOR^^CE GS-REELiir;^'. 




N E W Y R K : » 

C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO 

SAN FRANCISCO: H. H. BANCROFT & CO. 

1 860. 



^^1 



Entered, according to the Act of Congress, ir. tlie year ISGO, by 

HORACE GEEELE^, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New Yorl; 



C. A. ALVURD, PIUNTEK, NEW YORK. 






PREFACE 



The following letters, as is generally known, were written to 
The New Yoek Tribune during a journej through Kansas, Utah, 
and California, last summer. 

1^0 one can he more conscious than the writer that they present 
the slightest possible claims to literary merit or enduring interest. 
Their place is among the thousand ephemeral productions of the 
press on which the reading public, if good-natured, bestows a kindly 
glance, then charitably forgets them. Ten years hence, hardly a 
hundred persons will be able, without sustained effort, to recollect 
that these letters were ever printed. Hurriedly written, mainly in 
wagons or under the rudest tents, while closely surrounded by the 
(very limited) appliances and processes of pioneer meal-getting, fur 
from books of reference, and often in the absence of even the com- 
monest map, they deal with surfaces only, and these under circum- 
stances which preclude the idea of completeness of information or 
uniform accuracy of statement. The value of such a work, if value 
it have, must be sought in unstudied simplicity of narration, in tlie 
freshness of its observations, and in the truth of its averments as 
transcripts of actual experiences and current impressions. 

By consulting and studying the reports of eminent official ex- 
plorers and pioneers, from Lewis and Clark to Fremont and Lander, 
who have traversed the Plains, the Rocky Mountains, and the Great 
Basin, a far more complete and reliable book might have been made, 
but one extending to several volumes, and of which the public does 
not seem to stand in conscious, urgent need. That herewith sub- 
mitted, though of far humbler pretensions, has at least the merit of 
owing little or nothing to any other. 

If any excuse for printing these letters were wanted, it might be 
found in the fact that much of the ground passed over by the writer 
was absolutely new— that is, it had never before been traversed and 
described. The route up Solomon's Fork and the upper portion of 



4: PREFACE. 

the Republican, from the forks of the Kansas to Cherry Creek ; that 
from Denver to the gold-diggings in the Rocky Mountains, near 
Ralston's fork of Clear Creek ; the trail from Denver to Laramie, 
along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains ; and that from Salt 
Lake southwestwardly through central Utah to Pleasant Valley, and 
thence northwestwardly to the Humboldt at Gravelly Ford, are be- 
lieved to stand in this category. But another reason for printing 
these hasty sketches is found in the fact that very great and rapid 
changes in most of the region lying directly between Missouri and 
California are inevitable. The Leavenworth Express route, through 
the heart of what in June is the Buffalo region, which was hardly 
four weeks old when I traveled it, was soon after abandoned, and 
has reverted to the domain of the wolf and the savage; while the 
rude beginning of a settlement I found, scarcely three weeks old, at 
"Gregory's Diggings," has since been "Mountain City," with its 
municipality, its newspaper, and its thousands of inhabitants; and 
is now in its decline, having attained the ripe age of nearly half-a- 
year; Captain Simpson has, since July, completed his exploration 
of a military and mail route through Central Utah, whereby more 
than a iiundred miles of that I traveled are saved and the detested 
Humboldt wholly avoided; and Carson Valley, under the impetus 
of rich mineral discoveries, is rapidly increasing in population and 
consequence, and about to stand forth, the nucleus of the embryo 
Territory of Nevada. Whoever visits California a few years hence, 
will doubtless find it greatly changed from the California so hastily 
run over but faithfully described by me in August, 1859. Should, 
then, a few copies of this book, lost in the dustiest recess of some 
all-embracing, indiscriminate library, evade the trunk-makers to the 
close of the next decade, the antiquary of 1870 may derive gratifi- 
cation if not instruction from a contrast of the ' populous, enterpris- 
ing, and thrifty Central North America of his day, with that same 
region overrun and roughly depicted by me in the summer of 1859. 
Should such prove tlie fact, I commend my hasty letters to his 
generous indulgence. 

H. G. 

New Yokk, Nov. 1, 1S59. 



CONTEi\TS 



AN^ OVERLAND JOURNEY. 

From New York to Kansas, 7 

Notes on Kansas, 20 

More Notes on Kansas, 35 

More of Kansas, 48 

Summing up on Kansas, 61 

On the Plains, ........ 71 

The Home of the Buffalo, 80 

Last of the Buffalo, 86 

The American Desert, 98 

Good Bye to the Desert, 107 

The Kansas Gold Diggings, 115 

The Plains — The Mountains, 128 

The Gold in the Rocky Mountains, . . . . 139 

"Lo, the Poor Indian," 149 

Western Characters, 157 

From Denver to Laramie, 166 

Laramie to South Pass, 182 

South Pass to Bridger, 190 

From Bridger to Salt Lake, . . . . , . 198 



G CONTENTS. 

Two Hours with Brighara Young, .... 209 

The Mormons and Mormonism, 219 

Salt Lake and its Environs, 230 

The Army in Utah, 245 

From Salt Lake to Carson Valley, .... 258 

Carson Valley — The Sierra Nevada, .... 275 

California Mines and Mining, 283 

California— The Yoseniite, 295 

California— The Big Trees, . . ... 310 

California Physically Considered, 322 

California — Its Eesources, 334 

California — Summing Up, 344 

California — Final Gleanings, 361 

Railroad to the Pacitic, . 368 



AN OVERLAirt) JOURNEY. 



FROM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 

Atchison, Kansas, May 15, 1859. 

I LEFT New York by Erie Eailroacl on Monday even-' 
ing, 9tli inst., just as our fortnight of bright, hot, plant- 
ing weather w^as closing. Two hours later, the gathered 
clouds burst upon us in a rain w^liich continued through 
the night, though the city was not refreshed by it till 
some hours later. "We had glimpses of sunshine as we 
skirted the southern shore of Lake Erie on Wednesday, 
and some more after a heavy shower at Chicago on 
Thursday; beside these, cloudy skies, easterly winds, 
and occasional rain, have been my portion since I bade 
adieu to the hot, dusty streets of Isew York. But it is 
breaking away as I write, and I hope to see Kansas, for 
the first time, under skies which image her sunny future 
rather than her stormy past. 

Coming up the Erie Koad, I tried a " sleeping-car"^ 
for the third time, and not very successfully. We all 
" retired" at ten o'clock, with a fair allowance of open 
windows and virtuous resolutions ; but the rain poured, 



8 FKOM NEW YOKK TO KANSAS. 

the night was chill and damp ; and soon everj orifice 
for the admission of external air, save the two or three 
humbug ventilators overhead, was shut, and a mephitic 
atmosphere produced, in which the soul of John G. Saxe 
might have disported and fancied it elysium. After 
gasping a while, like a netted fish on a hot sandbank, I 
rose to enter my solemn protest against all sleeping-cars 
not provided with abundant and indefeasible means of 
ventilation. I tried one, two nights later, on the Michi- 
gan Southern Road, which served much better, though 
still far from perfect. It is very true that no arrange- 
ment can secure a healthy circulation of air by night in 
any passenger-car, while the popular ignorance is so 
dense that the great majority imagine any atmosphere 
healthful which is neither too cold nor too hot, and 
rather laugh at the wit than pity the blindness of Saxe 
in holding up to ridicule a w^oman who knows (and does) 
better than to sit all night in a close car, with thirty or 
forty other human beings, all breathing an atmosphere 
which they, in twenty minutes, render absolutely pois- 
onous; but the builders of cars have no right to be 
ignorant of the laws of life w^ith which they tamper; 
and two or three presentments by Grand Juries of tlie 
makers of unventilated cars, especially sleeping-cars, as 
guilty of manslaughter, would exert a most salutary 
influence. I commend this public duty to the imme- 
diate consideration of jurors and prosecutors. 

Stopping at Hornellsville, at seven next morning, 3 
took the train for Buifalo thence at noon, and halted at 
Castile, to fulfill an engagement to speak at Pike, for- 
mei-ly in Alleghany, now in Wyoming County. 



FKOM NEW YOKK TO KAITSAS. \) 

I left Pike for Castile at five on Wednesday morning ; 
took the cars to Buffalo at half-past seven ; was in ample 
season for the Lake Shore train at ten ; ran into Cleve- 
land a little after five ; left at six for Toledo, where we 
changed cai's between ten and eleven, and w^ere in Chi- 
cago at seven next morning as aforesaid. Along the 
south shore of Lake Erie, as in our own state, it was 
plain that the area plowed on or before the 11th of 
May was greater this year than ever before. And well 
it might be ; for the country was hardly ever so bare of 
food for man and beast as in this same May of 1859. 
Flour is higher and wheat and corn scarcely lower in 
Chicago than in New York or Liverpool ; oats nearly 
the same. Thousands of cattle, throughout the Prairie 
States, have died of starvation this spring, though 
prairie hay might almost anywhere have been put up 
last fall at a cost of less than two dollars per ton ; Min- 
nesota, with, perhaps, the best soil for winter wheat in 
America, is buying flour in Chicago by the thousand 
barrels ; and I hear from different sections of this great 
granary of nations — from Illinois, from Iowa, from Mis- 
souri — of whole neighborhoods destitute alike of bread 
and of the wherewithal to buy it. Unpropitious as last 
season was, it does not fully explain this scarcity, espe- 
cially of fodder. I trust the like will never occur to 
need explanation again. 

Coming down through Illinois from Chicago south- 
westwardly to Quincy (268 miles) it was gratifying to 
see how general are the effort and obvious resolve to 
look starvation out of countenance this year. Thongh 
the breadth of winter wheat was but moderate, owing 
1* 



10 FROM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 

to the incessant rains of last autumn, it is plain that the 
farmers began to plow and sow as early as possible 
this spring; putting in, first, spring wheat, then oats, 
latterly corn ; and they mean to keep putting in corn 
and oats for a month yet. If Illinois and Iowa do not 
grow far more grain this year than ever before, it will 
hardly be the fault of the cultivators, for they are bent 
on doing their utmost. Considering their bad fortune 
last year, this resolute industry does them credit ; but 
they are generally in debt, out of money and almost out 
of credit, and are making a final stand against the sheriiF. 
I heartily wisli them a good deliverance. 

And, despite the hard times, Illinois is growing. 
There are new blocks in her cities, new dwellings in her 
every village, new breakings on this or that edge of 
almost every prairie. The short, young grass is being 
cropped by large herds of cattle, whose improved ap- 
pearance within the last fortnight is said by those who 
have observed them from day to day to be beyond cred- 
ence on any testimony but that of eye-sight. Here, 
every horse or ox that can pull is hitched to a 2)low or 
harrow whenever darkness or rain does not forbid ; and, 
by plowing the dryest ridges first and seeding them ; 
then taking the next dryest and serving them just so, 
nearly every cultivator can keep putting in seed at least 
four da,ys> per week from March till June. Many will 
plant corn this year till the middle of June, and even 
later, unless compelled sooner to desist in order to com- 
mence cultivating that first planted. Then cultivating 
will require every hour till harvesting begins ; and this 
(including haying) will last till it is full time to plow for 



FKOM NEAV YOKK TO K^VNBAS. 11 

winter wheat. No busier season was ever seen than this 
is to be ; fi-oin the Hudson to the Mississippi, you see 
four horses or oxen at work to one in pasture; and there 
are thousands of farmers who w^ould plant or sow a quar- 
ter more, if they had grain to feed their teams, than 
they will now be able to do. There are few traveling in 
the cars, few idling about stores or taverns, but many 
iij the fields. May a bounteous Heaven smile on their 
labors ! 

Illinois is just beginning to be cultivated. I presume 
she has no railroad along which half the land within a 
mile has ever been touched by a plow. Back from the 
roads, there is of course still less cultivation ; probably 
less than a tenth of her soil has ever yet been broken. 
Possibly one-fourth of her spontaneous product of grass 
may now be eaten by animals that contribute to the sus- 
tenance or comfort of man, though I think one-sixth 
would be nearer the mark. She has far more coal than 
Great Britain — I believe more than any other state — 
but has hardly yet begun to mine it. Her timber is not 
60 excellent ; she lacks pine and all the evergreens, but 
she is bountifully and cheaply supplied with these from 
Michigan and Wisconsin. Boards are sent through her 
canal from Chicago to the Illinois, and thence around by 
St. Louis and up the Missouri to build houses in Kansas 
and Nebraska. Her timber, such as it is, palpably in- 
creases from year to year, and will increase still more 
rapidly as roads and plowing check the sweep of prairie- 
fires. If her prairies were more rolling, they would be 
dryer and could be worked earlier; but then they would 
wash more, and probably have less depth and richness 



12 FliOM NEW YOKK TO KANSAS. 

of soil. Doubtless, the child is bom who will see her a 
state of ten millions of people, one million of them in- 
habiting her commercial emporinm. 

1 stopped over night at Quincy, and took the steam- 
boat Pike at half past seven next morning for Hannibal, 
twenty miles below. I had repeatedly crossed the Mis- 
sissippi, but this was my first passage on it. The river 
is very high, so that its banks are submerged, and the 
water flows under the trees which line either shore. 
Islets covered with trees and shrubbery abound ; the 
bluffs recede some miles on either hand, and are soft- 
ened to the view by the deep green of the young foliage ; 
hardly a clearing breaks the uniformity of the almost 
tropical prospect; though here and there a miserable 
little hut in the last stages of decay tells where a chop- 
per of steamboat-wood held on until whisky or the ague 
took him off". In flood, as it is, the river is turbid, not 
muddy, and pursues its course with a deliberation and 
gravity befitting the majestic Father of Waters, to 
whoni, with head bare and reverent spirit, I wave a re- 
spectful adieu. 

For our good boat has reached Hannibal, the first 
point below Quincy at which the Missouri bluff ap- 
proaches the river, and whence the valley of a streamlet 
makes up through the hills to the broad, level prairie. 
Hannibal is pleasantly situated on the intervale of the 
creek and up the side of the bluff, so as to be entirely 
commanded by a steamboat passing up the river. It is 
a bustling, growing village of some four thousand in- 
habitants, which the new "Hannibal and St. Joseph 
Eailroad " has suddenly raised from local to general im- 



FKOM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 13 

portance. Like most villages on the great western rivers 
it has no wharf, and the river is now threatening to eat 
away a part of the bank on which railroad and steam- 
boat freight is heaped in wild disorder. Its new conse- 
quence must soon work a change. I look for a wharf 
and a great storehouse when I next land or embark 
here. 

The Pike rounded to, and sent us ashore ; the train 
backed down to within forty feet of her ; the passengers 
got aboard the cars and were followed by their baggage, 
and in half an hour we were steaming up through 
the woody ravine to emerge on one of the largest 
prairies on northern Missouri. Across this — or, rather, 
along it — we took our course westward, almost as the 
crow flies, to St. Joseph on the Missouri, two hundred 
tind six miles distant, which we reached in a little more 
than twelve hours, or at half-past ten last evening. The 
road was completed in hot haste last winter, in order to 
profit by the " Pike's Peak " migration this spring ; no 
gravel is found on its line, unless in the immediate 
vicinity of the Mississippi ; and it was raining pitilessly 
for the second day nearly throughout, so that the road- 
bed was a causeway of mortar or ooze, into which the 
passing trains pressed the ties, first on one side, then on 
the other, making the track as bad as track could well 
be. A year hence, it must be better, even with the frost 
just coming out of the ground ; after a dry week, it will 
probably be quite fair ; but yesterday it afi"orded more 
exercise to the mile than any other railroad I ever trav- 
eled. About one-third of the way from Hannibal, it is 
intersected by the "North Missouri Eailroad " from St. 



14 FKOM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 

Louis, wliicli city is about one hundred miles further 
from St. Joseph than Hannibal is ; the train from St. 
Louis starting: at five a. m. to connect with ours which 

o 

ought to have left Hannibal at half past nine. Each 
road is completed, so that St. Louis as well as Hannibal 
is within a day's ride by rail of St. Joseph, which faces 
Kansas almost up to the Nebraska line. 

Though the day was dreary, I noted with deep interest 
the countr}^ through whicli we passed, which disappoint- 
ed me in these respects : 1. The land is better than I 
had supposed ; 2. It is of more uniform grade — hardly 
anything worth calling a hill being seen after rising the 
bluff from the Mississippi till we come in sight of the 
bluffs which enclose the Missouri ; 3. There is more 
prairie and less timber than I had expected ; and 4. 
There are infinitely less population and improvement. 
Of course, this road w^as run so as to avoid the more 
settled districts, and thus to secure a larger allotment of 
the public lands whereof the alternate sections for a 
width ' of five or six miles were granted to the state in 
aid of its construction ; but I had not believed it possi- 
ble to run a railroad through northern Missouri so as to 
strike so few settlements. Palmyra, near the Mississippi, 
and Chillicothe, a hundred miles further west, are county 
seats and villages of perhaps two hundred dwellings 
each ; beside these, there is no village of any size, 
unless it be one of those we passed in rain and dark- 
ness as we neared the Missouri. For some fifty miles 
after passing Palmyra, we traversed a level prairie, 
admirably grassed, but scarcely broken, save where the 
needs of the railroad had called up two to half a dozen 



FEOM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 15 

petty buildings. Yet, for most of the way, timber was 
in siglit on one side or on both, often within a mile ; 
and the soil, though but a thin, black mold resting on 
a heavy clay, therefore not so well adapted to grain as 
prairie soils are apt to be, is admirably Utted for stock- 
growing. It seems incredible that such land, in a state 
fort}^ years old, could have remained unsettled till now. 
We traversed other j^rairies, five to twenty miles long, 
separated by the richest intervales skirting Grand River 
and sundry smaller streams, well timbered with elm, 
hickory, etc. Interposed between the prairies are miles 
on miles of gently rolling ridges, thinly covered with 
white oak, and forming " oak openings " or " timbered 
openings," while a thick growth of young wood, now 
that the annual fires are somewhat checked by roads 
and cultivation, is coming forward under the full-grown 
oaks, the whole forming one of the most beautiful and 
inviting regions I ever passed over. They tell me that 
the rolling prairies near St. Joseph, to which we passed 
after dark, are richer and finer than those I saw ; but 
they surely need not be. With such soil and timber, 
the Mississippi on one side, the Missouri on the other, 
and a railroad connecting them, it must be that north- 
ern Missouri is destined to increase its population speed- 
ily and rapidly. I am sure beef can be made there at 
less cost per pound than in any other locality I ever 
visited. 

St. Joseph is a busy, growing town of some ten 
thousand inhabitants. It is beautifully situated on a 
bend of the Missouri, partly on its intervale (which the 
river is gouging out and carrying away), and partly on 



16 FEOM NEW YOEK TO KANSAS. 

the southward slope of the bluff, which rises directly 
from the river bank, at the north end of the town. Other 
towns on the Missouri may have a grander future ; I 
doiibt that any has a finer location. The river bank 
must be piled or docked, or in some way fortified against 
the boiling current which sets against the town-site with 
fearful power and effect. 

I believe tliis is further west than any other point 
reached by a raih'oad connecting eastward with the 
Atlantic ports. At all events, the travel and part of the 
trade of the vast wilderness watered by the Upper Mis- 
souri and its tributaries, seem to center here. At the 
City Hotel, where I stopped, some of the guests were of, 
and from Salt Lake; one, an Indian trader from the 
head waters of the Columbia, who came down the 
Yellow Stone from the Rocky Mountains last fall in a 
canoe, and is now returning. Army ofiicers and sutlers 
for the forts far up the Missouri and its tributaries, are 
constantly arriving and departing. I may never see St. 
Joseph again, but she will long be to me a pleasant rec- 
ollection. Elwood, in Kansas, opj)osite, is a small place, 
which must grow with the country behind her. The 
mighty, boiling flood, which is tearing away the soil of 
St. Joseph, is piling up new bars and banks in front of, 
and just below Elwood, rendering approach to her 
wharf (if wharf she has or should have) difiicult for 
river steamboats, and thus shutting her out iVom the up- 
river trade. 

I took passage from St. Joseph for this place at eight 
this morning on the good steamer Platte Yalley, Captain 
Coursey, and defied the chill east wind, and damp, cold 



FROM NEW TOKK TO KANSAS. IT 

atmosphere, to take my first lesson in Missouri naviga- 
tion. The distance by water is some forty miles; by 
land considerably less ; the river being here, as every- 
where, crooked and capricious. I regretted to note that 
it tends, if unchecked, to grow worse and worse ; the 
swift current rapidly forming a bank below every pro- 
jecting point, and thus setting the stream with ever- 
increasing force against the yielding, crumbling mold or 
silt of the intervale which forms the opposite shore, 
which is thus rapidly undermined and falls in, to be 
mingled with and borne away by the resistless flood. 
The banks are almost always nearly perpendicular, and 
are seldom more than two or three feet above the surface 
of the water at its present high stage, so that the work 
of devastation is constantly going on. The river is at 
once deep, swift, and generally narrow — hardly so wide 
in the average as the Hudson below Albany, though 
carrying the water of thirty Iludsons. It cannot be half 
a mile wide opposite this city. Its muddiness is beyond 
all description ; its color and consistency are those of 
thick milk porridge ; you could not discern an egg in a 
glass of it. A fly floating in a teacup of this dubious 
fluid an eighth of an inch below the surface would be 
quite invisible. With its usually bold blufi's, two or 
three hundred feet high, now opposing a rocky barrier 
to its sweep, now receding to a distance of two or three 
miles, giving place to an intervale, many feet deep, of 
the richest mold, usually covered by a thrifty growth 
of elm, cotton-wood, etc., its deep, rapid, boiling, eddying 
current, its drifting logs and trees, often torn from its 
banks by its floods, and sometimes planted afresh in its 



18 FKOM NEW TOEK TO KANSAS. 

bed, so that the tops rise angularly to a point just below 
or just above the surface of the water, forming the 
sawyer or snag so justly dreaded by steamboats, the 
Missouri stands alone among the rivers of the earth, 
unless China caw show its fellow. 

I have not yet learned to like it. 

Atchison gives me my first foothold on Kansas. It 
was long a Border-Ruffian nest, but has shared the for- 
tunes of many such in being mainly bought out by free, 
state men, who now rule, and for the most part own it. 
For the last year, its growth has been quite raj)id ; of 
its four or five hundred dwellings, I think, two-thirds 
have been built within that period. The Missouri at 
this point runs further to the west than elsewhere in 
Kansas ; its citizens tell me that the great roads west- 
ward to Utah, &c., from St. Joseph on the north and 
from Leavenworth on the south, pass within a few miles 
of Atchison when thrice as far from their respective 
starting-points. Hence the Salt Lake mail, though made 
up at St. Joseph, is brought hither by steamboat and 
starts overland from this place; hence many trains are 
made up here for Laramie, Green River, Fort Hall, 
Utah, and I hear even for Santa Fe. I have seen sev- 
eral twelve-ox teams, drawing heavily-loaded wagons, 
start for Salt Lake, etc., to-day ; there are others camped 
just outside the corporate limits, which have just come 
in ; while a large number of wagons form a corral (yard, 
inclosure or encampment) some two miles westward. A 
little further away, the tents and wagons of parties of 
gold-seekers, with faces set for Pike's Peak, dot the 
prairie ; one of them in charge of a grey-head who is 



FEOM NEW YORK TO KANSAS. 19 

surely old enough to know better. Teamsters from Salt 
Lake and teamsters about to start, lounge on every cor- 
ner ; I went out three or four miles on the high prairie 
tliis afternoon, and the furthest thing I could see was the 
white canvas of a moving train. I have long been 
looking for the West, and here it is at last. — But I must 
break oiF somewhere to prepare for an early start for 
Leavenworth and Lawrence to-morrow, in order to reach 
Osawatamie next day in season to attend the Repub- 
lican Convention which is to assemble at that place on 
"Wednesday, the eighteenth. 



n. 

NOTES ON KANSAS. 

Lawrence, Kansas, 3£ay 20, 1859. 

It resumed raining in Kansas, after a few dry days, 
on Thursday, tlie 12tli inst., and rained "off and on'" 
till Saturday night. Sunday, the loth, was cloudy and 
chilly, but without rain, until evening, when thunder- 
showers came up from every side, and kept flashing, 
rumbling, and pouring nearly throughout the night. 
Kansas brags on its thunder and lightning; and the 
boast is well founded. I never before observed a dis- 
play of celestial pyrotechny so protracted, incessant and 
vivid as that of last Sunday night. The country, al- 
ready saturated with water, was fairly drenched by this 
deluge, which rendered many streams ordinarily insig- 
nificant either dangerous or for a season impassable. 

At 6 A. M. on Monday morning, four of us left Atchi- 
son in a two-horse wagon, intent on reaching Osawat- 
amie (some eighty miles rather east of south — one hun- 
dred by any practicable route) next evening. The sky 
was still threatening ; we knew that the streams were 
swelled beyond reason ; but our pilot was a most experi- 
enced pioneer, who had forded, been ferried over or 
swam every stream in Eastern Kansas, and w^as confi- 
dent of his ability to go through by some route or other. 
So we went ahead in a southerly direction, across swells 
of prairie rather steep-sided for Kansas, and through 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 21 

ravines in which what were usually rills w^ere swelled 
into torrents. From the high level of the prairies, little 
but a broad sweep of grass on every side was visible ; 
but soon we were descending into a new ravine, and 
now belts and spurs of timber were seen, generally 
widening as they tend toward the Missouri. I noted 
that these woody spurs, composed mainly of black-oak 
and cotton- wood (the latter a very poor but quick-grow- 
ing timber, ranging somewhere between poplar and 
basswood), began to spread on every side wherever the 
annual fires were repelled from the adjacent prairie, 
whether by the interposition of a road or otherwise, and 
that the young trees that thus spring up along the sides 
of the ravines and run out into the level prairie, are 
quite often hickory, white ash, etc., even where none 
such are visible among the adjacent timber. I was fully 
convinced that wood becomes more abundant with the 
progress of settlement and cultivation. Of course, there 
is timber enough to-day in the Territory ; but the better 
portion of it is too generally confined to the intervales 
of the larger streams, too far for their comfort from most 
settlers on the prairies. Could prairie-fires be wholly 
arrested, the increase of timber would overbalance ten- 
fold the annual use and waste ; and the quality improves 
even faster than the quantity. This is real progress. 
For, though there is quite enough in Kansas, and a 
pretty good variety of all species except the evergreens, 
which are lamentably deficient, there are points at 
which there is none within several miles — the little that 
formerly ran up the small ravines which here cut in 
upon the great high prairies being soon exhausted by 



22 NOTES ON KANSAS. 

use for building, fuel, and fencing, and requiring years 
for its reproduction. 

Twelve or fifteen miles south of Atchison, we struck 
the great California trail from Leavenworth, and tlience 
followed it east by south into that city, some fifteen to 
eighteen miles. I should have liked Gerrit Smith as 
one of our party, that I might show him the practical 
working of his theory that Government has no other 
legitimate business than to keep one man's fingers ofi' 
another man's throat and out of any pocket but his own. 
The great California trail, like the Santa Fe and all 
other primitive roads through this prairie country, 
keeps along the highest " divides " or prairie swells, 
avoiding the miry '' bottoms " of the streams and (so far 
as possible) the ravines which the water falling on the 
high prairie has cut down to them, of course winding 
considerably, but making the best and most serviceable 
natural road that can be, and one that in dry weather is 
excellent, and in wet as good as possible. But each 
settler along this trail, in the absence of any legal estab- 
lishment of the trail as a highway, is at liberty to run 
his fences right across it as the line of his land runs, 
and so crowd it ofi" the high "divides" into all manner 
of angles and zigzags, across this ravine and into that 
slough, until the trail is fast becoming the very worst 
road in all Kansas. I have had a pretty full ex23erience 
of bad roads during this week ; but the very worst and 
miriest was that portion of the California trail (and 
United States military road from Fort Leavenworth 
west to other forts) which works its sinuous way through 
the region generally settled by thrifty farmers, lying 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 23 

directly west of Leavenworth. And the worst hill for 
teams I have seen in Kansas is traversed by this road 
within five miles of Leavenworth, between the fort and 
the rich but mirj valley of Salt Creek on the west. 
This road, unless it can be restored, will soon have to 
be abandoned, and thence Leavenworth must sufi"er. 

As we neared the California trail, the white coverings 
of the many emigrant and transport wagons dotted the 
landscape, giving the trail the appearance of a river 
running through great meadows, with many ships sail 
ing on its bosom. Most of the independent wagoners 
were still encamped by the wayside, unable or unwilling 
to braTC the deep mud; their cattle feeding on the 
broad prairie ; the emigrants cooking or sitting beside 
the wagons ; women sometimes washing, and all trying 
to dry their clothing, drenched and soaked by the pour- 
ing rain of the past night. One great wagon-train was 
still in corral with its cattle feeding and men lounging 
about ; the others might better have been, as it was 
clearly impossible to make their lean, wild-looking oxen 
(mainly of the long-horned stripe, which indicates Texas 
as their native land, and which had probably first felt 
the yoke within the past week) draw them up the 
slightest ascent through that deep, slij)pery mire. A 
great deal of yelling, beating, swearing, was being ex- 
pended to little purpose, as I presume each train cor- 
raled for the ensuing night within a mile of the point it 
left in the morning. These contractors' wagons are 
very large and strong, each carrying a couple of good 
extra axles lashed under its body, to be used in case an 
old one gives way under a heavy jerk; the drivers are 



24 NOTES ON KANSAS. 

as rough and wild-looking as tlieir teams, tliongli not 
quite so awkward at tlieir business ; but to keep six 
yoke of such oxen in line in the road, and all pulling on 
the load, is be^^ond human skill. It is a sore trial to 
patience, that first start of these trains on their long 
journey — to Utah, Fort Hall, Green iiiver, and some 
of these to New Mexico, thougli this is not the Santa Fe 
traiL The loads are generally lifty hundred weight; 
the wagons must weigh at least fifteen hundred each ; 
and, though this would seem moderate for twelve oxen, 
it must be remembered that they are at this season poor 
and at first unbroken, and that the road is in spots a 
very bad one. A train consists of ten to thirty wagons ; 
each train has its reliable and experienced master or 
director; and when a team is stalled, another is un- 
hitched from its own wagon and sent to the aid of the 
one in trouble. The rate of progress is necessarily snail- 
like ; these trains will do very well if tliey make twenty 
miles the first week, considering the weather. But then 
the feeding of the teams (like the lodging of the men) 
costs nothing, as they live on the broad prairie, and 
though they will often be fearfully hungry or dry in 
traversing grassless tracts on their route, they are said 
generally to gain in flesh (for which there is ample 
room) during a journey of three or four months. Of 
course, they improve in docility and effectiveness, being 
at first so wild that, in order to be yoked, they have to 
be driven into the corral (formed, as I may have ex- 
plained, by the wagons closely ranged in hollow square, 
the tongue of each being run under its next neighbor, 
for defense against Indians or other prowlers). Yery 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 25 

few wagons or cattle ever come back ; the freigliting is 
all one way ; and both wagons and cattle are nsuallj 
sold at or near their point of destination for whatever 
they will fetch — to be taken to California or disposed of 
as they best may. 

We drove into Leavenworth City about 11 a. m., 
and found that the delegates from this county had 
generally given up the idea of reaching Osawatamie, 
judging that the Convention would have to be ad- 
journed or postponed on account of the swollen and im- 
passable streams. Stranger Creek barred all egress by 
w- ay of Lawrence, which we had intended to make our 
resting-place for the night ; a creek nine miles south of 
Leavenworth had turned back the stage running in that 
direction ; in fact, no stage made its w^ay out of Leaven- 
worth that day in any direction which was not forced 
to return, baffled by the high water. So at 3 p. m. we 
shipped our horses and wagons on board the steamboat 
D. A, January, and dropped down the Missouri some 
fifty miles, past the bleaching bones of several dead 
cities (not including Quindaro, which insists that it is 
still alive) to Wyandot, in the lower corner of Kansas, 
with Kansas City, Missouri, three miles off, in plain sight 
across the mouth of the Kansas or Kaw River. Yf yan- 
dot, though hemmed in and impeded, like Quindaro, by 
an Indian reserve back of it, is alive, and is becoming, 
what it ought fully to be, the outlet and inlet between 
Southern Kansas and the Missouri River. It has a 
beautiful location, and decided natural advantages over 
Kansas City, which, with other Border-Ruffian strong, 
holds south of it, has hitherto engrossed too much of the 



26 NOTES ON KANSAS. 

travel and trade of Kansas. We halted at "Wyandot 
over night, had an improptn Kepnblican gathering and 
some off-hand talk in the evening, and set forth at six 
next morning for Osawatamie (forty-six miles a little 
west of south by a bee-line, but over fifty by any prac- 
ticable ronte), which we were desirous of reaching 
before night, as the Convention was to be held next 
day. 

Our route led south-west over rolling woodland 
through the Wyandot Reserve, descending into the bot 
tom of the Kansas or Kaw Kiver — said bottom being 
from one to two miles wide, and very heavily timbered 
with elm, yellow oak, black walnut, hickory, cotton- 
wood, sycamore, basswood, etc. Nearly all tlie rivers 
and larger creeks of Kansas run through similar bot- 
toms or intervales, from half a mile to three miles wide, 
and timbered much like this. These intervales are 
composed of a dark, rich mold, oftener over than under 
three feet in depth, but they are so level that they 
could hardly be cultivated without drainage, even were 
it advisable to strip them by wholesale of timber, as it 
decidedly is not. The houses and barns that shall yet 
thickly dot the adjacent prairies are now mainly grow- 
ing in these bottoms, and should stand there as trees till 
they are wanted. When cleared and drained — and in 
some places the rotting out of the stumps, and thorough 
plowing thereafter will go far toward effecting the drain- 
age required — they will yield bounteous crops of al- 
most anything that does not dread frost. Though it 
seems hardly possible that their soil should be richer 
than that of the prairies, it is deeper, and probably con- 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 27 

tains a more varied and choice admixture of the ele- 
ments of vegetation. But the Kansas or Kaw bottom 
was not only soaked but covered with water — for it 
had rained here smartly only the preceding morning 
after it ceased at Atchison, and the road across the bot- 
tom was for the time an all but impassable morass. 1 
trust the citizens of Wyandot will not long leave it 
thus. 

We crossed the Kaw on a fair wooden toll-bridge, one 
thousand two hundred feet long, just erected — or, rather, 
not quite comj)leted. In default of a toll-house or gate- 
keeper, a man at work on the bridge in his Jiirt-sleeves, 
took the toll. I believe no other bridge across the Kaw 
is now standing, though there has been one at Topeka, 
fifty miles up, and perhaps at other points. Bridges 
are sorely needed throughout Kansas, not only because 
the streams are addicted to rapid and vast augmenta- 
tions from thaws or rains, but because their banks are 
almost perpendicular, and often miry toward the bot- 
tom, while the streams are nearly as deep at either shore 
as in the middle, making the attempt to ford difficult, 
even when it is not dangerous. 

The Kaw was, of course, nearly full (all the rivers of 
Kansas have low banks), and was running very swiftly ; 
still, it seems of moderate size, for a river which leads 
about six hundred miles westward of its mouth ; but all 
the rivers of this region, the Missouri included, seem 
small, considering the area drained by them. The facts 
that they run rapidly, are apt to be deep, and that their 
depth is nearly uniform from side to side, account in 
part for this appearance. 



28 NOTES ON KANSAS. 

Half an hour after crossing the Kaw, we emerged 
from the road and the Reserve upon the high prairie, 
the clouds of the morning broke away, and the day was 
hencefortli perfect. The young grass of the prairie, re- 
freshed by the heavy rains, appeared in its freshest, ten- 
derest green ; the delicate early flowers were abundant, 
yet not so numerous as to pall by satiety the pleasure of 
looking at them, and the panorama presented was mag- 
nilicent. Passing Shawnee, a prairie village of twenty 
or thirty houses, with a large hotel, our road bore more 
directly south, and soon brought us in sight of the great 
Santa Fe trail, with its white-toj)ped, emigrant wagons, 
and three great contract trains, one of them still in 
corral^ the others with six pair of mules to each wagon, 
attempting to make progress toward New Mexico — at- 
tempting it, for the most ]3art, in vain. The mules were 
small, and new to work — to tJds work, at all events — 
and drew badly ; while the wheels cut so deeply into the 
yielding paste beneath them that little or no advance 
was made. I presume they all corraled for the night 
within two miles of the places where we saw them. 

Crossing the trail almost at right angles, we left the 
smart village of Olathe (county seat of Johnson county) 
a mile or so to the west, and struck olf nearly due south, 
over high prairies sloped as gently and grassed as richly 
as could be desired, with timber visible along the water- 
courses on either hand. Yet there was little or no set- 
tlement below Olathe — for the next twenty miles that 
we traveled there was hardly an improvement to each 
four square miles of the country in sight. And yet, if 
the Garden of Eden exceeded this land in beauty or 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 29 

fertility, I pity Adam for having to leave it. The earth 
was thorouglily sodden with rain, so that temporary 
springs were bursting out on almost every acre, while 
the water-courses, including those usually dry, ran 
heavy streams, each of them requiring skill in the 
charioteer and good conduct on the part of the horses 
to pass them without balk or break. We must have 
crossed over a hundred of these "runs" in the course 
of this day's travel, each of them with a trying jerk on 
the carriage, and generally with a spring on the part of 
the horses. These water-ways have generally a lime- 
stone bottom not far below the surface of their bed ; but 
their banks are apt to be steep, and are continually 
growing more so by reason of the water washing away 
the earth which has been denuded of grass and worked 
loose by hoofs and wheels. Traveling by jerks like this 
is not so pleasant as over a macadamized road, yet our 
day was a bright and pleasant one. 

Thirty miles of progress, twenty of them over prairie, 
brought us to Spring Hill, a hamlet of five or six dwell- 
ings, including a store, but no tavern. Oar horses 
needed food and rest — for the wagon with its four in- 
mates, was a heavy drag over such going — so we stopped 
and tried to find refreshment, but with limited success. 
There w^as no grain to be had, save a homcepathic dose 
sold us for a quarter by a passing wagoner, and thank- 
fully received ; we gave this to our steeds, regaled our 
selves on crackers and herring, and pushed on. 

Our direct route led due south to Paoli, county seat 
of Lykins ; but persons we met here assured us that 
there was no crossing Bull Creek on this road, and that 



30 NOTES ON KANSAS. 

we must bear away to the west through Marysville (a 
village of perhaps a dozen houses, including a store and 
a tavern), so as to cross at Rock Ford, three miles be- 
yond, which opened the only chance of getting over. 
We did so, and crossed in safety, with the usual jokes 
when we were fairly over; but I confess that the wide, 
impetuous stream, so impenetrable to the eye, and so 
far above its average level, wore a vicious look to me 
when we approached and plunged into it. Its bottom 
is here hardly half a mile wide, but is capitally wooded 
with hickory, oak, black-walnut, etc. Emerging from 
it, we rode over twelve miles more of high, gently roll- 
ing jorairie, with wood in the ravines on either side, 
which brought us to the village of Stanton (of twenty 
or thirty houses, including two stores and a tavern) 
which we reached before sunset, having traveled at least 
fifty miles since we started in the morning. [N'ight and 
the Marais des Cygnes — here brought us to a halt — the 
creek being at this time impassable — and we had to 
forego our determination to reach Osawatamie before 
sleeping. So we halted at the little tavern, where we 
found five or six others bound to Osawatamie, like our- 
selves, at least one of whom had swam three creeks 
since the morning. Fifteen or twenty others drove up 
during the evening; we had supper, a neighborhood 
meeting and a Republican talk at the school-house, and 
adjourned to fill all the beds and floors of the tavern as 
full as they could hold. The kind, active, efficient land- 
lady did her best, which was good, enough; and all 
were snugly bestowed except another editor and myself, 
who accej^ted the kindly proffered hospitality of a Re- 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 31 

publican farmer, and were capitally entertained at his 
house, half a mile distant. 

As night fell, the lightning had begun to gleam and 
flash nearly around the horizon ; by ten o'clock, the 
thunder rolled ; at twelve, a high gale could be heard 
sweeping over the prairies some moments before it 
struck us. The lightning blazed almost incessantly for 
hours ; yet the rain-fall at Stanton was very slight. 
But there were heavy showers at Marysville, at Paoli, 
and almost everywhere else around us, still further rais- 
ing the streams, so that many who had come part way 
were unable to reach Osawatamie next day. 

"We were early on the bank (a mile from Stanton) of 
the Marais des Cygnes, which was running heavy drift- 
wood, and otherwise misbehaving itself. It had buried 
up the ferry-rope, without whose aid the boat could not 
be propelled across its sweeping current ; one of the 
trees to which that rope was attached was now nearly 
in the middle of the stream ; and there had been no 
crossing for a day or two. But a new rope had been 
procured and somehow stretched across the stream ; 
whereby we were taken across in our turn, after waiting 
somewhat over an hour. A mile or so of well timbered 
and too well watered bottom brought us again to prairie, 
over which we drove rapidly into Osawatamie, which 
w^e reached before ten a. m. 

Osawatamie is a village of at most one hundred and 
fifty houses, situated in the forks of the Marais des 
Cygnes and Potawatamie, a somewhat smaller creek, 
which comes in from the south-west. The location is a 
pleasant and favorable but not a commanding one ; the 



32 NOTES ON" KANSAS. 

surrounding country is more considerably cultivated 
than any I had passed south of the Kaw. The two 
creeks supply abundant and good timber ; an excellent 
steam sawmill has taken the j)lace of that which the 
border-ruffians burned ; a flouring mill, tannery, brew- 
ery and a large hotel, are being erected or completed. 
I presume there is a larger towm somew^here in what is 
known as Southern Kansas, though I do not know which 
it is. 

But Osawatamie has a higher interest than any other 
spot in Kansas, except possibly LawTcnce, because of 
her honorable eminence in the struggle which has 
secured Kansas to free labor. She was long the only 
settlement near the Missouri border "which was avow- 
edly, decidedly free-state ; the only free-state village that 
could be reached by a night's march from Missouri. To 
be known as a free-state man at Topeka, Waubonsee, 
Emporia, or any other post well inland, involved strug- 
gles and sacrifices ; to be one at Osawatamie, was to 
live in nightly and well-grounded apprehension of rob- 
bery, arson and murder. The pro-slavery settlements 
in the neighborhood were strong and malignant; and 
they had only to draw upon Missouri at sight for any 
amount of force, and the draft would be honored. Yet 
to surrender this outpost was virtually to give up all 
Kansas south of the Marais des Cygnes ; and, though 
its maintenance was sure to cost property and blood, it 
was not surrendered, for Old John Bkown was among 
its early settlers. Twice was it sacked and laid in ashes, 
once after a desperate fight of two hours, in which Old 
Brown with forty of his neighbors held at bay four hun- 



NOTES ON KANSAS. 33 

dred well-armed Missourians, wlio had the advantage of 
a cannon. So fearfully outnumbered, Old Brown, after 
seeing his son and several of his neighbors shot dead by 
his side, and after killing at least as mau}^ Missourians 
as there were of his own party altogether, was gradu- 
ally driven back through the open timber north of the 
village, and across the Marais des Cygnes, the ruffians 
not venturing to pursue their victory, though they had 
attacked from the west, and so were driving the free- 
state men toward Missouri. 

The women and children had meantime fled to the 
woods on the south; the village was burned after being 
robbed, the only iron safe therein having been blown 
open by firing a cannon into its side, and so plundered 
of some silver-ware and a considerable sum in money 
Osawatamie was thus a second time "wiped out." But 
it has risen again from its ashes, and is once more the 
home of an undaunted, freedom-loving people, who are 
striving to forget their bereavements and sacrifices in 
view of the rich fruits they have borne to liberty and 
human good. They have gathered the dust of their 
martyred dead into a common grave on a prairie-knoll 
just west of their village, and proj)ose to erect there a 
monument Vvdiich shall teach their children and grand- 
children to love and cherish the cause for which those 
heroes joyfully laid down their lives. I beg leave to 
suggest an enlargement of the scope of this enterprise — 
that this monument be reared to all the martyrs of free- 
dom in Kansas, and that the name of each be inscribed 
upon it, and his mortal remains, if his relatives make no 
objection, be placed beneath the column which shall 
2* 



34. NOTES ON KANSAS. 

here be reared as a memorial of the struggle which 
secured Kansas to free labor, and is destined finally to 
hasten the expulsion of slavery from Missouri. Should 
a monument be proposed on this basis, I feel confident 
that subscriptions in aid of its erection might reasonably 
be asked of all who prefer freedom to slavery, and 
would not be asked in vain. 



m. 

MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

Leayenworth, May 23, 1859. 
The convention at Osawatamie was of course very 
slow in assembling, and I think not more than half the 
organized counties were represented at all. Hardly any 
were present from the southern counties, for whose ben- 
efit that place of meeting had been selected. Those who 
did come got there by swimming many dangerous 
creeks ; but from most localities attendance was a phy- 
sical impossibility. Ferry-boats are scarce in Kansas, 
bridges, of course, nearly unknown ; and the water runs 
off these rolling prairies so rapidly that a stream which 
a three-year old child might ford at night will be run- 
ning water enough to float a steamboat before morning. 
Obviously, there can be no ferries maintained on such ; 
and, until bridges can be erected, those whose way lies 
across them have no further alternative when they are 
in flood than either to swim or wait. But to swim an 
angry, turbid, rushing torrent, perhaps a dozen rods 
across, and running drift-wood in a perfectly reckless 
manner, is a job requiring nerve and skill ; so the great- 
er number have simply to stay at home or camp on the 
bank, and wait until the flood runs out, which it usually 
will in twelve to thirty-six hours, according to the size 
of the stream, unless the rain or thaw continues. But 
it had rained nearly half the time for a week prior and 



36 IMOllli NOTES ON KANSAS. 

np to the eigliteentli, so that few even of those who sup- 
posed the convention would be held could reach it. 
Yet there gathered on the afternoon of that day nearly 
a thousand of the pioneers, mainly of the immediate 
neighborhood, to whom, in an interlude of the conven- 
tion's discussions concerning their organization and plat- 
form, I had the satisfaction of setting forth the repub- 
lican faith as I understand it, and by whom it was 
heartily received. It was a labor of love so to speak, 
but rather a tax to write the speech out, even imperfect- 
ly, as I was obliged to do during the next two days in 
the intervals of riding and speaking, in order that all 
those people of Kansas who care to do so may consider 
my notions of " Free-State Democracy " and " Squatter 
Sovereignty." 

The twin curses of Kansas, now that the border- 
ruffians have stopped ravaging her, are land-speculation 
(whereof the manufacture of paper-cities and bogus 
corner-lots, though more amusingly absurd, is not half 
so mischievous as the grasping of whole townships by 
means of fraudulent pre-emptions and other devices 
familiar to the craft) and one-horse politicians. Many 
of these latter were driven into the free-state movement 
by the enormity of the border-ruffian outrages, by their 
own terror or indignation, and by the overwhelming 
force of public sentiment ; but, being essentially dema- 
gogues, they gravitate irresistibly toward the sham- 
democracy, in whose embraces the whole tribe will 
bring up, s-ooner or later. Their prototype is Mr. 11. 
Miles Moore of this city, who, after having been one of 
the noisiest and most conspicuous free-state men in 



MOEE NOTES ON KANSAS. 37 

1855-6, after having been driven down the river by tlie 
border niffians, who gave him his choice between leav- 
ino^ Kansas and instant death, and after haviiio^ been 
once strung up by the neck by them and choked till 
nearly dead, is now hard at w^ork trying to put Kansas 
once more into their hands, and figuring in conventions 
and on committees with those who didn't quite hang 
him, as fellow democrats ! His case reminds me strong- 
ly by contrast of that of the man who "observed that, 
for the first month after marriage, he loved his wife so 
that he wanted to eat her, while ever since he had wished 
he had. 

The controlling idea of the one-horse politicians is 
that the republicans must not let their adversaries have 
a chance to raise the cry of " nigger " against them — 
that hence they must be as harsh, and cruel, and tyran- 
nical, toward the unfortunate blacks as possible, in order 
to prove themselves " the white man's part}^," or else 
all the mean, low, ignorant, drunken, brutish whites 
will go against them from horror of " negro equality." 
To which I reply that this sort of cattle are against the 
rejDublicans any how, and never can be permanently 
otherwise. They may be driven by circumstances to 
vote once or twice with us, but the virus of sham- 
democracy is in their blood, and must come out. That 
democracy, from long practice and an experience that it 
pays, can dive deeper, stay under longer, and come up 
nastier, in this business of negro-hating, than any other 
party that ever was or ever can be invented. There is 
nothing that more strikingly exposes the radical base- 
ness of slaveholdinof than the fact that its votaries so 



38 MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

hate those whom they have long injured, that, beaten in 
their desperate struggle to force negroes into Kansas as 
slaves, they now turn a short corner and insist that, if 
they cannot come in as slaves, they shall be shut out, 
and even driven out, altogether. 

I apprehend that it will be necessary for the republi- 
cans of Kansas, in view of the inveterate western pre- 
judices of a large portion of her population, to concede, 
for the present, that the right of suffrage shall be exer- 
cised only by white males, or men of European lineage, 
excluding, on account of their imperfect moral and in- 
tellectual developments, Indians, negroes, and their 
descendants. Further than this, I would not go, no 
matter how great the inducement. Leave the democrats 
alone in their glory, when they come to propose and 
sup23ort — as they are certain to do — propositions that 
negroes shall be expelled and excluded from Kansas — ■ 
shall be precluded from testifying against a white man 
— shall be debarred from attending schools frequented 
by white children, etc., etc. Let any city or district 
that sees fit, make adequate provision for the education 
of colored children by themselves ; but, in default of 
this, let the schools be open to all who need their minis- 
trations. Such, I hope, will be the determination of 
republicans generally ; and, if Kansas has to be lost in 
consequence, then let her go ! 

I left Osawatamie on the morning of the nineteenth, 
in the Lawrence stage, crossing the Marais de Cygnes 
at Bundy's ferry (where we crossed the day before), and 
finding the water considerably lower, though still over 
its regular northern bank, and the access on either side 



MOEE NOTES ON KANSAS. 39 

most detestable. Passing Stanton, we kept still west 
of north into the Ottawa Reserve, so as to leave a mail 
at Ottawa Jones's, where we struck due north to Prairie 
City, leaving Peoria City and Ohio City some miles 
distant on our left, either upon or near the Marais des 
Cygnes. (It takes three log houses to make a city in 
Kansas, but they begin calling it a city so soon as they 
have staked out the lots.) I stopped at Prairie City and 
talked to a republican gathering of four hundred people, 
though where on earth so many could have been 
scared up, within a reasonable ride of this point, one 
who merely runs over the country could not imagine. 
True, we had here "Prairie City," "Baldwin City," 
and " Palmyra " in a string, all within three miles ; but 
they could not all have mustered half this audience ; 
and I was forced to conclude that the country is really 
better peopled than it seems to a mere traveler — that, 
while the favored roads traverse the high " divides," or 
middle of the prairies, in order to avoid, so far as possi- 
ble, the miry bottoms and water-courses, the settlers are 
nested in the edge of the timber, and down the water- 
courses, where fencing and fuel are far more accessible. 
The country I traversed between Stanton and Prairie 
City was a little more rolling, and considerably better 
timbered, than that between Shawnee and Stanton, 
already described. The oaks often covered considerable 
tracts of upland, while young timber was visibly spread- 
ing on all hands, under cover of the universal hazel- 
bushes of those Kansas uplands which are not burned 
over every year. Our next post-office above Jones's was 
Hickory Grove, which reminds me that I saw more good 



40 MOEE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

jnckorv tliis day 'than in any former day of my life. 
Some of the oak, also, was very serviceable. These, 
with the black-walnut, are the settler's main reliance for 
timber, rails included. The elm, cotton- wood, sycamore, 
etc., warp so badly when sawed into boards and sea- 
soned, that very little use can be made of them, though 
I think I saw a few cotton-wood rails. The grass was 
abundant and superb ; the soil generally deep and excel- 
lent. 

"We had another smart thunder-shower on Friday 
morning (20th), after which I came from Prairie City to 
Lawrence, fifteen miles north. My companion was a 
young pioneer from southern Missouri, reared among 
slaves and slaveholders, but free-state from the time he 
could fairly see, who assured me that he knew a large 
portion of the people of Missouri to condemn and hate 
slavery, even while they shout and vote in its favor- 
He came out here in 1855 to be rid of the curse, and had 
had a pretty fair experience of the struggle, having been 
with Lane at Bnll Creek, when eight hundred Missou- 
rians did not venture to attack three hnndred and fifty 
free-state men, but, after being separated by night, beat 
a retreat across the line, leaving some of their arms and 
camp equipage behind them. He was also at the some- 
what noted " Battle of Black Jack," which he described 
to me substantially as follows : 

On the 1st of June, 1856, Henry Clay Pate, at the 
head of a pro-slavery band, emerging suddenly from 
the Indian Eeserve, which then covered most of the 
region between this point and the Missouri border, sur- 
prised the little settlement of Palmyra, which they 



MOKE NOTES ON KANSAS. 41 

sacked without resistance. I^ext morning, tliej pro- 
posed to extend tlieir operations to Prairie City, which 
would probably have shared the same fate, had not 
Old Brown, lately driven from Osawatamie by an over- 
whelming force, been camped, with ten of his tried men, 
in the woods on Black Jack, a little creek four miles 
eastward. Strengthened by these, Prairie City resolved 
on resistance, and mustered its sixteen Sharp's rifles, in 
addition to those of Old Brown's party, and when the 
ruflians sent in six of their men to sack the place, pre- 
suming there wonld be no resistance, they took four of 
them prisoners, and chased the other two back to their 
band, with bullets whistling by their ears. They found 
the ruffians encamped on the open prairie, but drawn 
out in line for battle, where they stood perfectly still as 
the free-state men neared them, firing as they neared to 
get the range of their rifles. As they approached, a 
small ravine only lay betwixt them, but the two lines 
could be and were distinctly counted on either side — 
fifty-four men in rank composing the pro-slavery and 
twenty-six the free-state party. Soon, two or three of 
the ruffians went down badly wounded, and one after 
another of their comrades were seen tailing oflT, making 
tracks for Missouri at a 2 : 40 gait, until barely twen.ty. 
two of them remained, when Pate raised a white flag 
and surrendered at discretion, to just fourteen men 
standing in the free-state array at that moment. Seven 
horses, two wagons well laden with the plunder of Pal- 
myra, two drums, and about forty stand of arms, were 
among the " spoils of victory " and though Colonel Sum- 
ner with his United States troops came down on hearing 



42 MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

of the affray, liberated the prisoners, and restored what 
they claimed as their property ; the booty taken from 
PalmjTa was left and restored to its rightful owners. 
'Not one free-state man was killed or badly wounded. 
The wounded Missourians were kindly nursed at Prairie 
City till they were well enough to travel, when they 
were recommended to resume that wholesome excersise 
— a suggestion which they promptly and gladly heeded. 
Two of those who got away died of their wounds. And, 
though there were many alarms, and a year of marching, 
camping, scouting, riding, after that, to the destruction 
of all industry and progress, Prairie City has seen no 
organized company of border-ruffians at her doors since 
that 2d day of June, 1856. 

The road from that city to Lawrence (fifteen miles) 
passes over a rolling country, mainly prairie, crosses the 
great Santa Pe trail, now horribly cut up by many heavy 
wagons passing in bad weather, then takes over a high 
" divide" and along a limestone ridge which runs out into 
the valley of the Wakarusa, and affords a magnificent 
view of the country for an area of twenty miles in each 
direction, w^itli the prairie in good part cultivated, 
gleaming in sunlight on every bend, and the Wakarusa 
w^ith its belt of timber making its way through them to 
join the Kaw, with its still larger belt, on the north. 
Spacious mounds or spurs of limestone covered with soil 
and grass rise to a height of two or three hundred feet 
on every side, on one of which, visible for many miles 
on every side, a flag, when raised, used to give warning 
of invasion and danger in the troublous days now hap- 
pily passed away. At the base of one of these spurs. 



MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 43 

by the side of the Kaw, sits Lawrence, clearly discern- 
ible from a distance of ten miles. Descending from the 
ridge, and passing over a lower prairie two or three miles, 
we cross the Wakarusa (a moderate creek, hardly twenty 
yards wide, bnt very deep and with high, steep banks) 
on a good toll-bridge, traverse its wide, wet bottom, here 
in good part prairie-marsh, and pass over two miles of 
snperb prairie into the renowned citadel of free-state 
principle, the first-born of northern resolution that 
Kansas should not be tamely yielded to the slaveholders, 
and wdiich does not deny its parentage. 

Lawrence can only grow with the more thorough de- 
velopment of the surronnding country. Across the 
Kaw on the north, a large Indian reservation (the Dela- 
ware) impedes its progress, while town-sites, and very 
good ones are so abundant in Kansas, that no location 
but one where navigable water is abandoned for land 
transportation can be of very much account. 1 should 
say Lawrence has now five hundred dwellings and per- 
haps five thousand inhabitants ; and these figures are 
more likely to be over than under the mark. She has a 
magnificent hotel (the Eldridge House) — the best, I hear, 
between the Missouri and the Sacramento — far better, 
I fear, than its patronage will justify — though it has 
nearly all that Lawrence can give. She is to have a 
great University, for which a part of the funds are 
already provided ; but I trust it will be located some 
distance away, so as to give scope for a Model Farm, 
and for a perfect develo]3ment of tlie education of the 
brain and the hands together. Li our old states, the 
cost of land is always assigned as a reason for not blend- 



4A: MOEE I^OTES ON KANSAS. 

ing labor with study authoritatively and systematically ; 
here there can be no such excuse. I trust the establish- 
ment of tlie Lawrence University will not be unduly 
hurried, but that it will be, whenever it does open its 
doors to students, an institution worthy of its name. 

I passed into the town over " Mount Oread," a con- 
siderable eminence on the south-west, on whose summit 
the free-state fortress of other days was constructed. 
It is now dilapidated, but is a place of considerable 
natural strength as a defensive position, and, in tTie 
hands of the grandsons of the men who defended Bun- 
ker Hill, would have cost something to whoever might 
have taken it. As it was, the ruffians, though often in 
the neighborhood in overwhelming force, and anxious 
enough for its destruction, never got possession of it but 
once, and then by marching with federal officers at 
their head and federal writs in their pockets. For one, 
I regret that even these were suffered to shield them, 
and thus allow printing-presses to be destroyed and 
houses battered down and burned with impunity. 

I did not speak long in Lawrence, for I trust words 
are not there needed. Her people have had practical 
illustrations of the great issue which divides the coun- 
try, and are not likely soon to forget them. Of course, 
her pioneers will die or become dispersed ; new men 
will come in or rise up to fill their places, and " another 
king arose who knew not Joseph," will find its parallel 
in her future. Thus, among her new-comers is the gen- 
tleman who led over one thousand armed Missourians 
from Jackson County in March, 1855, and returned by 
their votes and revolvers pro-slavery men to represent 



MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 45 

lier in the bogus Legislature of that year. He is, of 
course, an " Old-Line- Whig" of the Buchanan stripe, 
and will make a first-rate "Free-State Democrat" in 
dne season. By-and-bj, when the grogshops, already 
too numerous in Lawrence, shall have manufactured or 
attracted thither a sufficient number of ground-tier 
Democrats, and mortified pride or disappointed ambi- 
tion shall have wrought its perfect work with quite a 
number of sometime free-state men, he may be chosen 
mayor of the city of his young love, and The Constitu- 
tion (or whatever may then be the name of the pro- 
slavery organ at Washington) may announce with guns 
and trumpets that " JSTational Democracy has triumphed 
at last in tlie great stronghold of Kansas Abolition." 
But that will not probably happen just yet. 

While I was im Lawrence, the little steamboat " Gus 
Linn," Captain Beasley, came down the Kaw from 
Fort Riley, some thirty miles above the fork of the 
Big Blue, two hundred and thirty-five (I believe) from 
the mouth of the river, and over one hundred in a bee- 
line. She reached the fort in a little over two days 
from Kansas City, discharged her cargo, and loaded on 
her way down with corn, whereof Kansas has a large 
surplus of last year's growth, after supplying this year's 
heavy emigration to Bike's Peak. As the Territory has 
little or nothing else to sell, and almost everything to 
buy, she would like to export her corn if she had any 
way by which to get it to the Missouri without costing 
all it will fetch, so that this pioneer passage of a steam- 
boat above Topeka and Manhattan was hailed with 
general exultation. Her burthen is three hundred tons, 



46 MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

and she draws when full but thirty inches (wlien light, 
scarcely ten), and, in the present stage of water, I pre- 
sume she might easily go up to the Falls, twenty miles 
further. Of course, she can only do this to smj purpose 
when the water is very high ; but, in the absence of 
passable roads, the fact that this river can be navigated 
at all throughout the most thickly-peopled portion of 
Kansas, is of some consequence. 

I left Lawrence by stage on Saturday morning, 
crossing the Kaw by a good ferry directly at fhe city, 
and rising to a wide and well-timbered bottom on the 
north. It is probably well for Lawrence ultimately tliat 
this timber is in Indian hands, and therefore sure to be 
preserved for some years, though for the present the 
Reserve is a nuisance to her. Beyond the Kaw bottom, 
stretches beautiful and gently undulating prairie, check- 
ered by belts of timber on the creeks which traverse it, 
across the Keserve and beyond, until we begin to de- 
scend the Missouri blufi's to Leavenworth. 

Coming to "Turkey Creek," the passengers were 
turned out (as once or twice before), to lighten the 
coach, which was then driven cautiously through the 
steep-banked ford, while the passengers severally let 
themselves down a perpendicular bank by clinging to a 
tree, and crossed a deep and whirling place above the 
ford, on the vilest log I ever attempted to walk — twisty 
sharp-backed, and every way detestable. One of the 
passengers refused to risk his life on it, but hired one of 
the lazy Indians loafing on the further bank to bring 
over a pony, and let him ride across the ford. At "Big 
Stranger," we changed coaches with the passengers from 



MOKE NOTES ON KANSAS. 4:1 

Leavenworth — who had been waiting onr arrival here 
two hours, and must have been glad to see us — our 
baggage being first taken across the deep, ugly stream 
in a skiff, and the passengers next, either coach return- 
ing the way it came. We left Lawrence at nearly 10, 
and arrived here (thirty -five miles) about 6 p. m. 

LeaveuAvorth is, of course, much the largest place 
in Kansas, containing (I judge) one thousand houses and 
ten thousand inhabitants. The Fort, three miles up the 
Missouri, is not inchided in this estimate ; though that 
is a city of itself, w^ith extensive barracks, capacious 
store-houses, several companies of soldiers, many fine 
houses for ofiicers, sutlers, etc., and a farm of twelve 
hundred acres, which Uncle Sam cultivates, I presume, 
to much the same profit with other gentlemen who have 
fancy farms and do not oversee them very closely. It 
is a nice place, that Fort, with many excellent people 
about it ; but I can't help asking what it costs, and who 
pays, and wdiether that little bill might not be some- 
w^hat docked without prejudice to the public interest. I 
believe it could. Whenever our j^eople shall have 
grown w^ise enough to maintain no standing army what- 
ever but the barest skeleton of one, to be clothed with 
fiesh whenever needed by calling out volunteers, the 
annual expenditures maybe reduced at least one fourth, 
and we may build a railroad to the Pacific with the 
savings of three or four years. 

But Russell, Majors & Waddell's transportation estab- 
lishment, between the fort and the city, is the great 
feature of Leavenworth. Such acres of w\agons ! such 
pyramids of extra axletrees ! such herds of oxen ! such 



48 MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 

regiments of drivers and otlier employees! "No one 
who does not see can realize how vast a business this is, 
nor how immense are its outlays as well as its income. 
I presume this great firm has at this hour two millions 
of dollars invested in stock, mainly oxen, mules and 
wagons. (They last year employed six thousand team- 
sters, and worked forty-five thousand oxen.) Of course, 
they are capital fellows — so are those at the fort — but I 
protest against the doctrine that either army ofiicers or 
army contractors, or both together, may have power to 
fasten slavery on a newly organized territory (as has 
just been done in New-Mexico) under the guise of let- 
ting the people of such territories govern themselves. 
Yet this is just what "Squatter Sovereignty," unmodi- 
fied by a fiery anti-slavery agitation in the free-states, 
will in practice amount to. 

Whether the three great cities of America are to be 
]N^ew York, St. Louis and Leavenworth, as one set of 
friends seem to think, or 'New York, St. Louis and 
Atchison, as another set assure me, I do not j^retend to 
decide. If Atchison had the start that Leavenworth 
now has, I think she would probably keep it. But not 
having it, you see, alters the case materially. The fort 
is here as a fixed fact; the United States goods are 
landed at th*e fort ; so the trains are made up there ; and 
so Leavenworth is Leavenworth, and Atchison (for the 
present) only Atchison. 

1 saw a great mule train started from the fort to-day, 
and another will start soon, filled with one hundred and 
sixty soldiers' wives and babies, on their way to join their 
husbands in Utah, from wliom tliey have been separated 



MORE NOTES ON KANSAS. 49 

nearly two years. I argue from this fact that Uncle 
Sam expects to have use for his army in Utah for some 
time yet. 

There has been no rain for three days ; the sun is 
bright and hot; tlie prairie-wind from the west is a 
gale ; the streams are down — all but " Big Muddy," 
which does not give an inch, but rushes by Leavenworth 
almost bank-fnll and turbid as ever. The roads which 
so lately were mud, are now blowing dust in clouds ; 
and there is a fair prospect of settled summer weather. 
I turn my face westward to-morrow. 

3 • 



TV, 

MORE OF KANSAS. 

Manhattan, May 24, 1859. 
1 LEFT Leavenworth in the Fort Riley stage at 6 a. m. 
on Tuesday, a day in advance of the " Pike's Peak Ex- 
press," which crosses the U. S. military road at tliis 
point, in order to gain time to visit Topeka and Manhat- 
tan, and sum up my impressions of Kansas for Tue 
Tkibune. Our road from Leavenworth lay over the 
heavy hill westward (which Leavenworth must soon 
cut down or it will cut her down materially), passing 
thence through the rich valley of Salt Creek and over 
a "divide" into that of the Stranger, which we forded at 
Easton, a village of thirty to fifty houses, famous for 
border-ruflian outrages and murders in 1856. The 
blufi's of the Stranger are here one to two hundred feet 
high, generally timbered with oak, etc., and so covered 
with limestone bowlders that scarcely more than half 
the ground is visible. These bowlders are generally 
oblong and irregularly fiat, making the best of stone- 
wall. I am informed that nine rods of capital wall is 
regarded as but a fair week's work for a good wall- 
builder, working by himself. We pass out of the valley 
just beyond Easton, rising to the slightly rolling prai- 
rie ; and henceforth for forty miles to Topeka our way 
lies through a gently heaving sea of grass, with timber 
generally visible along the water-courses on either side. 



MORE OF KANSAS. 51 

Occasionally, however, we descend from tlie crest of 
the prairie into a barely perceptible hollow, and now 
nothing but grass and sky are visible, the two meeting 
a-t the horizon on every side. I do not like this region 
quite so well as the more rolling country south of 
Qlathe and Prairie City, across Bull Creek and the 
Marais des Cygnes ; but it is very fertile, fairly wooded, 
and sufficiently irregular in surface to carry off the 
water and leave few or no marshes or sloughs except in 
the road, where the frequent crossing of unbridged. 
water-courses is attended by a jolt and a jerk which 
render a doze dangerous and scarcely possible. In 
riding over such i»oads, all the pleasure must be drank 
in through the eyes alone. 

We stopped for dinner at the crossing of Grasshopper 
Creek, at the village of Osawkee, once the seat of Jef- 
ferson County's public buildings and a land office, botli 
now removed. Grasshopper Falls, I believe, next ob- 
tained the coveted distinction of being shire town ; both 
another popular vote removed it thence to Oskaloosa, 
on the road from Leavenworth to Lecompton, on the 
north line of the Delaware Reserve, whicli still covers a 
good part of Jefferson as well as of Leavenworth and 
Wyandot Counties. Osawkee, now probably four years 
old, is therefore in a state of dilapidation and decay, 
like a good many Kansas cities which figure largely on 
the map. Its business having left it, its great hotel was 
very mysteriously burned, and I presume the insurance 
on it was duly paid. We dined here at a very modest 
but comfortable tavern, kept by a kind and worthy 
Pennsylvania Dutchman, who recognized me from our 



Cr2 MORE OF KANSAS. 

having met at the Whig I^ational Convention at Ilar- 
risburg, nearly twenty years ago. Bearing south of 
west from Osawkee, we crossed Rock and Muddy 
Creeks (neither of them more rocky nor mnddy than 
the other), and were obliged by the lack of a bridge 
(now being repaired) over Halfday Creek, to keep ©n 
west to a petty village called Indianola, whence we 
turned a sharp angle through the magnificently fertile 
and admirably timbered bottom of the Kaw or Kansas 
to the Topeka ferry, which we reached a little after 
sundown, but were delayed by a great contractor's 
train which had been all day crossing, and was likely 
to be a good part of the morrow, so that we did not get 
across and into Topeka till nearly dark. I noticed with 
sorrow that the oxen which draw these great supply- 
wagons are often treated very cruelly, not merely in 
respect to the beating and whaling which every human 
brute delights in bestowing on every live thing over 
Avhich he domineers, but with regard to food and drink. 
Here were cattle that had stood in the yoke all that 
hot, dry day with nothing to eat or drink ; and, when 
they came down to the river mad with thirst, they were 
all but knocked down for trying to drink. I was as- 
sured that oxen are sometimes kept in the yoke, without 
food or drink, for two days, while making one of these 
river crossings. There can be no excuse for this. Those 
Avhich have lono^ to wait ouo^ht to be taken off and 
driven a mile or more if necessary to grass and fed 
there ; at all events, * they should be watered at least 
twice a day. How can a competent train-master — to 
say notliing of humanity— overlook the policy of this? 



MORE OF KANSAS. 53 

The river is liere wider than at Lawrence or 'Wyan- 
dot below, is nearly as muddy as the Missouri, and runs 
witli a swift current even to its banks. An attempt had 
been made during the day to swim across a drove of 
cattle ; but the strong current carried them below the 
ferry landing on the south, whence the steep bank foj- 
bade their getting out, so that they w^ent down the 
river several miles, and three of them were drowned. 
The experiment of swimming proved wretched economy, 
alike in time and money. 

Topeka is a village of probably one hundred houses 
and one thousand inhabitants, situated on the north line 
of Shawnee County, which has the Sac and Fox Reserve 
on the south, tlie Potawatamie on the north-west, and 
the Delaware at a little distance on the north-east. 
Along the north bank of the river opposite, a party of 
halt-breeds have a reserve a mile wide by twenty miles 
long, and I give the good-for-nothing rascals credit for 
admirable judgment in selecting their land. There ia 
probably not an acre of their tract that could not be 
made to produce one hundred bushels of shelled corn 
by the application of less labor than w^ould be requked 
to produce thir' y bushels on the average in 'New York 
or New Englai 1. The soil is a river deposit four to six 
feet deep ; the timber large and choice — oak, elm, bass, 
black-walnut, sycamore, etc., with wild grape-vines four 
to six inches through, and a thick undergrowth of 
shrubbery and annuals. I begin to comprehend, though 
I do not excuse, the covetous impatience wherewith 
Indian reservations are regarded by their white neigh- 
bors. 



64. MOKE OF KANSAS. 

Topeka was one of the strongholds of the free-state 
cause throughout the dark days of Kansas. Here as- 
sembled the first convention cliosen by the people to 
frame a state constitution as a rallying point for de- 
fense and mutual protection against the border-ruffian 
usurpation of 1855 ; here the free state legislature, 
peacefully assembled in 1856 to devise and adopt meas- 
ures looking to a redress of the unparalleled wrongs and 
outrages under which Kansas was then writhing, was 
dispersed by federal bayonets and cannon; here the 
guns of the U. S. troops were pointed against a mass- 
meeting of the people of Kansas, assembled in the open 
air to devise and adopt measures for the redress of their 
intolerable grievances, and that meeting compelled to 
disperse under ]3enalty of military execution. And here 
I renew my vows of hostility to that federal standing 
army until it shall have been disbanded. It is utterly 
at war with the genius and perilous to the existence of 
republican institutions. The regular soldier is of neces- 
sity the blind, passive, mechanical instrument of power. 
If ordered to shoot his own father, he must obey or be 
shot himself. Twice has the French Republic been 
crushed by Bonapartean usurpation — crashed by the 
bayonets of a standing army pointed a the breasts of 
her faithful legislators. A republic whose citizens are 
not willing to do their own fighting — all that is neces- 
sary and proper — but must have a standing army to do 
it for them, lies at the mercy of any bold, unscrupulous 
adventurer who can w^ork his w^ay to the command or 
the favor of that army. I trust ours is near its end. 
After greeting friends and speaking in Topeka, I 



MORE OF KANSAS. 55 

learned with surprise that the stage for Fort Eiley 
would start at three in the morning, leaving but a nar- 
row margin for sleep. On rising, however, I found that 
the high w^ind would not allow us to cross the river yet, 
and it was nearly six o'clock when we actually started. 

We had now enjoyed three dry, bright, warm days, 
which had turned most of the mire of the roads to a sort 
of adobe^ or sun-burned brick, though enough still re- 
mained in sunken holes and brook-crossings to remind 
us of what had been. But the lightning had flashed, 
and the clouds gathered throughout the night ; and, as 
we drove out through Indianola and took the military 
road westward, the thunder gave indications of the 
shower which burst upon us a little before nine o'clock 
and poured till eleven, turning the brick of the road to 
mire again. And, though the rain ceased, the day re- 
mained sullen and lowering, with transient glimpses of 
weak sunshine, to the end. 

Our route lay for thirty miles through the Potawat- 
amie Reserve, and was no longer encumbered with great 
army supply-trains, as they Avere either north of us on 
the California trail to Laramie, or south on the road 
crossing at Topeka and leading to Fort Union and Santa 
Fe. A few^ of the wagons we passed this day may have 
been heading for Forts Riley and Kearney; while "Pike's 
Peakers," both going out, and returning disheartened, 
were in considerable numbers. I do not see how tliose 
returning could well resist the temptation to halt and 
make claims, as I hear many have do-ne, generally seek- 
ing them in the south part of the territory, where spec- 
ulation has been less rampant than in the vicinity of the 



56 MOEE OF KANSAS. 

Kaw. With a wagon-load of provisions and three or 
four yoke of oxen, a squatter might, even ^-et, by the 
help of a. good plow, get in twenty acres of sod-corn 
this season, cut hay for winter, and break a glorious 
breadth of prairie before hard frost could stop him next 
fall. Whoever does this judiciously and resolutely will 
have reason for gratitude to Pike's Peak, even though 
he never see the color of its gold nor get nearer to it 
than the Big Bine. 

We traveled all day with the timber of the Kaw vis- 
ible on the south, sometimes quite near us, then one to 
two or three miles distant. Our road lay for a conside- 
rable distance along the bank of what seemed a deserted 
bed of the river, which has since made a new and deeper 
channel more to the south. At one point this old bed 
is so deep that it still retains water, and now figures as 
a narrow lake. We traversed the prairie, of course, 
except where it was cut by the creeks coming down from 
the north to lose themselves in the Kaw. The Soldier, 
the Ked Yerraillion, and another Rock Creek, were the 
principal of these streams. Our road passed St. Mary's 
(Catholic) Mission, where there is quite an Indian vil- 
lage and a very large improvement, which I guess white 
men were paid to make. Yet, whether to their credit 
or otherwise, I believe the truth cannot fairly be dis- 
puted, that Catholic Missions have been more successful 
in establishing a j)ermanent influence over Indians than 
any others, except, perhaps, those of the Moravians. 

At the Ped Yermillion — still on the Potawatamie Re- 
serve, but near its western edge — we dined ; the land- 
ladv a half-breed — the dinner the hardest I ever vet 



MOEE OF KANSAS. 57 

paid lialf a dollar for. Doubtless, however, my eyes 
will be opened to an appreciation of cold hog and corn 
dodger as delicacies, long befoi-e tliey are blessed with a 
sight of the Sacramento. 

A wide, marshy bottom — over wliich each charioteer 
seeks an nntraversed path, since a rnt buries him so much 
deeper in the mire — lies just west of the Yerniillion 
(which, with two or three other steep-banked streams, 
we crossed on Indian toll-bridge?, cheaply built and very 
profitable to their owners ;) whence tlie land rises into 
rolling sandy ridges, some of them thinly wooded up 
their sides with white and burr-oak. Thence we strike 
the old-fashioned deep, black prairie again — most invi- 
ting to the cultivator, but not so grateful to the traveler, 
just after a soaking rain — and, passing the stakes and 
ruinous cabin or so of one or two still-born cities, we 
each the Big Blue, which here joins the Kansas from the 
north. It is nearly as wide as the Kansas or Kaw at 
Lawrence, but of course neither so swift nor so deep. It 
is far clearer, even just after a heavy shower, than the 
Kansas ; as is strikingly evinced at and below the junc- 
tion, where the two streams run for some distance side 
by side in the same channel without mingling. 

The Big Blue rises near the Platte, in what is now 
IS^ebraska, but which will be included in Kansas if the 
Platte is made her northern boundary, as it seems 
likely to be. Its general course is a little east of south ; 
its length one hundred and fif'y miles. I understand 
that there is a good deal of settlement already along its 
course and on its tributaries, though I judge from the 
relative purity of its water that some part of this region 



58 MORE OF KANSAS. 

must be less fertile than those of Kansas I liave 
seen. 

Manhattan is an embryo city of perhaps one hnndred 
houses, of which several were unroofed and three or four 
utterly destroyed by a tornado on the wild night I passed 
at Atchison (15th inst.) So violent was the tempest, 
that a large sign-board was carried across the Bine and 
thrown down fully half a mile from the spot at which it 
w^as taken np ; and other heavy articles were swept 
away which have not since been fonnd. Several fami- 
lies deprived of home and shelter by the hurricane are 
temporarily lodged in the basement of the new hotel 
just erected here — a three-story building 55 by 33, with 
limestone walls and black-walnnt finishing — an estab- 
lishment of which there is urgent need. The embryo 
city is located on the flat, deep bottom in the forks of 
the rivers, with a high limestone bluff, afl'ording capital 
material for building, just behind it. The Kansas comes 
hither from the south-west, and has Fort Riley and its 
large military reservation fifteen miles distant on its 
north bank, with the intended city of Ogden just east 
and "Junction City" just west of it, at the forks of the 
Kansas, whence its more northerly branch is known as 
the Kepublican, and its more southerly as the Smoky 
Hill. 

At Junction City, is a newspaper — the most westerly, 
I presume, in Kansas, apart from the Pike's Peak re- 
gion — founded and kept alive by an army sutler, and 
of course "Democratic" in its inculcations. In opposi- 
tion to it, The ManliaUan Express is about to be issued 
here by M. Yivalde, an Italian exile and a devotee of 



MORE OF KANSAS. 59 

universal liberty, who will of course sustain the repub- 
lican cause. I commend him and his journal to the 
confidence and patronage of all who would like a weekly 
bulletin from the Far West. I spoke here last evening 
in the midst of another gathering tempest, which burst 
in rain as I closed, and it continued to flash and roll all 
night, with considerable rain, and is cloudy and blowing 
a gale to-day. I fear we shall be stopped by high water 
on the plains. 

I had hoped to sum up my impressions of Kansas in 
this letter, but that would make it too long. Let me 
close with an incident wliich is currently reported 
throughout this region as having recently taken place 
at a crossing of the Big Blue, known as Marysville (of 
course not the Marysville of Bull Creek), some sixty 
miles north of this place : 

A party of disheartened gold-seekers, it is said, were 
returning from the plains, and came to this ferry, which 
they insisted on crossing without payment, saying they 
had no money. The ferryman refused to take them 
over until paid — (anotiier account says he asked them 
an exorbitant price) — when they attempted to take his 
boat and put tliemselves across — whereupon he drew 
his revolver, they drawing almost at the same instant. 
He was of course riddled with balls, and fell dead, but 
not till he had either killed or severely wounded five of 
his assailants. 

One more illustration of border life : A quarrel re- 
cently arose about a " claim " — that fruitful source of 
frays -and lawsuits in new settlements — on one of the 
creeks a few miles from this place. The stronger party, 



60 MORE OF IvANSAS. 

composed of several who are known here as bad fellows, 
told the resident he must leave, which he, in fear for his 
life, consented to do. His wife, however, more resohite, 
resolved to hold possession, and bade them defiance, 
turning as she did so to go into the house and bar the 
door. As she turned, she was fired at and fatall}^ 
wounded. She died two hours thereafter, having first 
made a statement of the affair, which was taken down 
from her dying lips. The adverse party came down at 
once to the nearest justice and told their story, expect- 
ing to clear their leader, who fired the fatal shot ; but 
the justice, after hearing them through, considered that 
it implicated the whole party (five), and consequently 
held them to answer to the charge of murder. 



SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 

Manhattan, Hay 26, 1859. 
I like Kansas — that is, natural Kansas — better than I 
had expected to. The soil is richer and deeper; the 
timber is more generally diffused ; the country more 
rolling, than I had supposed them. There are of course 
heavy drawbacks in remoteness from the seaboard, 
heavy charges for bulky goods, low prices for produce, 
Indian reserves, and the high price of good lumber. 
For instance, pine boards used in building at this place 
came from Alleghany County, JS". Y., and were rafted 
down some mill-stream to the Alleghany, thence down 
the Alleghany to Pittsburgh, and the Ohio to Cairo ; 
were thence taken up the Missouri to St. Louis, the 
Missouri to Kansas City, and the Kansas to this place, 
which has but twice or thrice been reached by a steam- 
boat. When here, they were dog cheap at one hundred 
dollars per thousand superficial feet, or ten cents for 
every square foot. In the absence of steamboat naviga- 
tion on the Kansas, they must here be richly worth one 
hundred and twenty-five dollars per thousand feet. 
And, while there is pretty good timber here for other 
purposes, there is little — and that mainly black-walnut 
— that will make good boards. The ready cotton wood 
along the banks of the streams cuts easily, but warps so 
when seasoned that it will draw the nails out of the 



62 SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 

side of a house. Elm is of course equally perverse ; aud 
I have seen few indigenous boards that were not either 
black- walnut or oak. But much of the oak is small, 
short, and gnarly ; while the black-walnut is likely to 
be exhausted. I see young ones coming up thickly in 
some of the river bottoms ; but these have much to con- 
tend with, and will not at best be large enough to saw 
for many years. No doubt, the timber of Kansas in- 
creases each year, and will increase still faster as roads 
and improvements are- multiplied, limiting the sweep of 
the prairie-fires ; but it will always cost more to build a 
decent house of wood in the interior of Kansas than in 
any part of New York or 'New England — I think twice 
as much. This is a heavy tax on a new country, where 
not only houses but barns are a general, primary, and 
pressing need. 1 rejoice to see the new timber creeping 
up the bluffs of the streams ; I note with pleasure that 
much of this is hickory and some of it white-ash ; I 
doubt not that there will always be wood enough here 
for fencing and fuel ; but if the Pike's Peak region can 
send a good lot of pine lumber (even yellow-pine) down 
the Platte and the Arkansas, it will be worth more to 
Kansas than all her gold. 

I consider Kansas well watered — no prairie-state 
better. I do not confine this remark to the present, 
when everything is flooded, and likely to be more so. I 
mean that springs, streams, creeks, rivers, are quite 
universal. For my own private drinking, I should like 
a supply not so much impregnated with lime ; but, for 
limestone water, this is generally quite good. 

And the limestone itself is among the chief blessings 



SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 63 

of Kansas. I presume it underlies every foot of lier 
soil I have yet traversed, with nearly every square mile 
that will be comprised within the state of Kansas. You 
see it cropping out from almost every bluff; it lies 
tliickly strewn in bowlders over the surface of every 
headland or promontory that makes out into the bot- 
toms, low prairies, or ravines ; so that if you want to 
use it, it is always to be drawn (or rolled) down hill. 
Though not liere needed as a fertilizer, it can every- 
where be quarried with little labor into building-stone, 
or burned for use in putting up chimneys and plastering 
walls. Though somewhat decomposed (I presume, by 
the action of water upon it through thousands of years) 
and readily cleaving into blocks of suitable size for 
house-walls, it is said to harden by exposure to the 
atmosphere, and make a very durable wall. It is the 
constant though unobserved decomposition of this stone 
that has contributed so largely to the fertility of this 
soil, and now countervails tlie enormous waste through 
tlie rivers. I presume all the guano imported yearly 
into our country does not eqnal in fertilizing value the 
annual outflow from the Kansas river alone. 

I judge that Indian corn can be grown here as 
cheaply as anywhere on earth. Thousands of acres last 
year produced their hundred bushels of shelled grain 
per acre, at a very moderate cost for labor and none at 
all for manure. An extensive farmer, wdio grew many 
thousands of bushels near Leavenworth, assured me that 
the cost of his corn, cribbed in the ear, was just six 
cents per bushel of ears, equal to nine cents per bushel 
of grain-^three half bnshels of ears of the great Ohio 



64 SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 

kind here cultivated making a busliel of grain. Of 
course, this estimate exchides the cost of land, breaking, 
and fencing; but, making a fair allowance for these, the 
net cost of that corn cannot have exceeded twenty cents 
per bushel. I presume it would now sell in his crib for 
forty cents, while here in the interior it is worth from 
twenty-five to thirty-five cents per bushel. 

I met at Osawatamie an old Whig and now Kepub- 
iican friend w^ho left New York City (where he had 
been an industrious mechanic) and settled between 
Lawrence and Topeka two years ago. He liad last year 
eighty acres in corn, which yielded four thousand bush- 
els, worth to him thirty -five or forty cents per bushel. 
His clear profit on this corn, above the immediate cost 
of growing it, can hardly have been less than one thou- 
sand dollars. He will grow more this year, with wheat, 
potatoes, etc.; yet he is one of a class who are popularly 
supposed incapable of making money by farming. I 
suspect few life-long farmers of similar means will have 
good buildings over their heads and fruit-trees and other 
elements of material comfort around them sooner than 
my friend. 

Wheat and oats did badly last year, owing to the heavy 
summer rains which rusted and blighted them. Too 
little of either have been sown for this year's harvest, 
yet I find both winter and spring wheat looking re- 
markably well almost everywhere. Oats are scarcely 
more than out of the ground ; yet they, too, promise 
well, so far as can now be foreseen. 

But an unpleasant truth must be stated : There are 
too many idle, shiftless people in Kansas. I speak not 



SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 65 

here of lawyers, gentlemen speculators, and other non- 
producers, who are in excess here as elsewhere; I allude 
directly to those who call themselves settlers, and who 
would be farmers if they Avere anything. To see a man 
squatted on a quarter-section in a cabin which would 
make a fair hog-pen, but is unfit for a human habita- 
tion, and there living from hand to mouth by a little of 
this and a little of that, with hardly an acre of prairie 
broken (sometimes without a fence up), with no garden, 
no fruit-trees, "no nothing" — waiting for some one to 
come along and buy out his "claim" and let him move 
on to repeat the operation somewhere else — this is 
enouo^h to i^-ive a cheerful man the horrors. Ask the 
squatter what he means, and he can give you a hundred 
good excuses for his miserable condition : he has no 
breaking-team ; he has little or no good rail-timber ; he 
has had the " shakes ;" his family have been sick ; he 
lost two years and some stock by the border-ruffians, 
etc., etc. But all this don't overbear the facts that, if 
he has no good timber, some of his neighbors have it in 
abundance, and would be very glad to have him work 
part of it into rails on shares at a fair rate ; and if he 
has no breaking-team, he can hire out in haying and 
harvest, and get nearly or quite two acres broken next 
month for every faithful week's work he chooses to give 
at that busy season. The poorest man ought thus to be 
able to get ten acres broken, fenced, and into crop, each 
year. For poor men gradually hew farms out of heavy 
timber, where every fenced and cultivated acre has cost 
twice to thrice the work it does here. 

And it is sad to note that hardly half the settlers make 



6() SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 

any sort of provision for wintering their cattle, even by 
cutting a stack of prairie-hay, when every good clay's 
work will pnt np a ton of it. If he has a corn-field, the 
sqnatter's cattle are welcome to pick at that all winter ; 
if he has none, they must go into the bottoms and browse 
through as best they can. Hence his calves are misera- 
ble aflfairs ; his cows unfit to make butter from till the 
best of the season is over ; his oxen, should he have a 
pair, must be recruiting from their winter's famine just 
when he most urgently needs their work. And this ex- 
posing cattle all winter to these fierce prairie-winds, is 
alike inhuman and wasteful. I asked a settler the other 
day how he coidd do it?^ "1 had no time to make a 
shelter for them." "But had you no Sundays? — did 
you not have these at your disposal ?" " O, yes ? I don't 
work Sundays." " Well, you should have worked every 
one of them, rather than let your cattle shiver in the 
cold blasts all winter — it would have been a w^ork of 
humanity and mercy to cut and haul logs, get up a cattle- 
stall, and cover it with prairie-hay, which I will warrant 
to be more religious than any thing you did on those 
Sundays." But the squatter was of a different opinion. 
How a man located in a little squalid cabin on one of 
these rich " claims" can sleep moonlit nights under the 
average circumstances of his class, passes my compre- 
hension. I should want to work moderately but reso- 
lutely, at least fourteen hours of each secular day, until 
I had made myself comfortable, with a fence around at 
least eighty acres, a quarter of this partitioned ofi:' for 
my woi'king cattle, a decent, warm shelter to cover them 
in cold or stormy weather, a tolerable habitation for 



SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 67 

my fciniily, at least forty acres in cro^), and a young or- 
chard growing. For one commencing with next to 
nothing, 1 estimate this as the work of five years ; after 
which, lie might take things more easily, awaiting the 
fruit from his orchard and the coming np of his boys to 
help him. But for the first four or five years, the poor 
pioneer should work every hour that he does not abso- 
lutely need for rest. Every hour's work then will save 
him many hours in after life. 

For the farmer who comes in with liberal means, the 
task is obviously much easier. Let us suppose one to 
be worth $5,000 the day he lands on the Kansas shore 
of the Missouri, and see how quickly he can make a 
farm and a home. He arrives, we will say, in August, 
when he can see just what the country produces, whether 
in a state of nature or under cultivation. He buys a 
quarter-section (which is land enough for any man) in a 
choice locality, including thirty or forty acres of timbered 
river or creek bottom, say for $10 per acre, charges 
$1,000 of the $1,600 thus called for to the account of 
the pro-slavery democracy, for defeating the free land 
bill, and sets to work, with two good hired men. He 
buys five yoke of oxen for a breaking-team, a span of 
good wagon-horses, a cow in fresh milk, and three heifers 
w^hich will be cows next spring, puts up a cabin that 
will just do, and is ready to commence breaking by 
the 1st of September. As his men break, he follows 
with the horses, sowing and harrowing in wheat so long 
as that will answer, but does not stop breaking till the 
ground is frozen, ^ow he begins to cut and draw tim- 
ber for a fitter habitation to which to welcome his fam- 



GS SUMMING UP ON KANSAS. 

ily ill the spring. Having done this, he gets good me- 
clianics to finish it, while he and his men go to work at 
fencing, by cutting saw-logs for light, narrow boards, if 
there be a saw-mill convenient ; if not, then by cutting 
for and splitting rails. So soon as the dryest land will 
answer for it, he begins to put in sprhig wheat, then 
oats, then corn, putting up fence whenever the soil is too 
w^et for plowing. Let him not forget to have a few 
acres seasonably set in fruit-trees, some of them dwarfs 
for early bearing. Thus his money will not have been 
exhausted by the ensuing fall, when he will have crops 
coming in and more than a hundred acres of his land 
broken and subdued for future cultivation. I see no 
reason why a resolute, good manager should not be com- 
fortable after his first year or two, and henceforth take 
the world as easily as need be. He who comes in with 
but $2,000, $1,000 or $500, must of course be much 
longer in working his way to a position of comfort and 
independence ; but if he will work right ahead, wasting 
neither days nor dollars, and keeping clear of specula- 
tion and office-seeking, he can hardly fail to do w^ell. 

As to the infernal spirit of land speculation and mo- 
nopoly, I think no state ever suffered from it more 
severely than this. The speculators in broadcloth are 
not one whit more rapacious or pernicious than the spec- 
ulators in rags, while the latter are forty times the more 
numerous. Land speculation here is about the only 
business in which a man can embark with no other cap- 
ital than an easy conscience. For example : I rode up 
the bluffs back of Atchison, and out three or four miles 
on the high rolling prairie, so as to have some fifteen to 



SITI^OIING TTP ON KANSAS. 69 

twenty square miles in view at one glance. On all this 
inviting area, there were perhaps lialf a dozen poor or 
middling habitations, while not one acre in each hun- 
dred was fenced or broken. My friend informed me 
that every rood I saw was " preempted," and held at 
thirty np to a hundred dollars or more per acre. " Pre- 
empted!" I exclaimed; how preempted? by living or 
lying ?" " Well," he responded, " they live a little and 
lie a little." - I could see abundant evidence of the lying, 
none at all of the living. To obtain a preemption,, the 
squatter must swear that he actually resides on the quar- 
ter-section he applies for, has built a habitation and 
made other improvements there, and wants the land for 
his own use and that of his family. The squatters who 
took possession of these lands must every one have com- 
mitted gross perjury in obtaining preemption — and so it 
is all over the territory, wherever a lot is supposed likely 
to sell soon for more than the minimum price. I heard 
of one case in which a squatter carried a martin-box on 
to a quarter-section, and on the strength of that martin- 
box, swore that h^ had a house there " eighteen by 
twenty" — he left the officer to presume the feet. So it 
is all over; the wretched little slab shanty which has 
sufficed to swear by on one " claim," is now moved off 
and serves to swear bv onunother, wlien the first swear- 
ing: is done. I am confident there is not at this hour 
any kind of a house or other s'gn of improvement on 
one-fourth of the quarter-sections throughout Kansas 
which have been secured by preemption. The squatter 
who thus establishes a " claim" sells it out, so soon as 
practicable, to some speculator, wlio follows in his wake, 



70 SUMMING UP ON IvANSAS. 

getting from $50 to $300 for that which the future bona- 
iide settler will be required to pay $250 to $1,500 for. 
Such, in practical operation, is the system designed and 
ostensibly calculated to shield the poor and industrious 
settlers from rapacity and extortion ; but which, in fact, 
operates to oppress and plunder the real settler- — to 23ay 
a premium on perjury — to foster and extend speculation 
— to demoralize the people, paralyze industry and im- 
poverish the country. 

But the fierce, chilly gale has blown away the tempest 
of last night" — the clouds fly scattered and brassy — it 
is time to look for the Leavenworth Express, whereof 
two stages west from this point will bear me beyond the 
bounds of settlement and civilized life. Adieu to friend- 
ly greetings and speakings ! Adieu for a time to pen 
and paper ! Adieu to bed-rooms and wash-bowls ! 
Adieu (let me hope) to cold rains and flooded rivers ! 
Hurrah for Pike's Peak ! 



* There was a heavj snow storm that night at Denver, and. throughout 
its vicinity. 



YI. 

ON THE PLAINS. 



Station 9, Pike's Peak Express Co., ) 



Pipe Creek, May 28, 1859. 

I WAS detained at Manhattan nearly a day longer than 
I had expected to be by high water. Wildcat, live 
miles west, and Rock Creek, seventeen miles east, were 
both impassable on Thnrsday, so that an express-wagon 
from Pike's Peak was stopped behind the former, while 
f^YQ mail-coaches and express-wagons faced each other 
through part of Thursday and all of Thnrsday night 
across the latter. IS^ext morning, however, each stream 
had run out, so that they could be forded, and at one 
p. M. I took my seat in the Pike's Peak express, and 
again moved westward. 

Our way was still along the United States militarjr 
road, crossing AVildcat, now a reasonable stream, and 
winding for some miles over rugged, thin-soiled lime- 
stone hills, then striking down south-westward into the 
prairie bottom of the Kansas, which is as rich as land 
need be. A few miles of this brought us to Ogden, a 
land-office city of thirt^^ or forty houses, some of them 
well built of stone. Just beyond this begins the Fort 
Piley reservation, a beautiful tract of prairie and timber 
stretching for four or five miles along the northern bank 
of the Kansas, and including the sad remains of Pawnee 
City, at which Gov. Peeder summoned the first (bogus) 



72 ON TFTE PLAINS. 

legislature of Kansas to meet — then fifty to one hundred 
miles westward of anywhere. They obeyed the sum- 
mons, but forthwith adjourned to Shawnee Mission, a 
pro-slavery strongliold on the Missouri border. Paw^nee 
City is now of the things that were. 

Fort Riley is a position which does credit to the taste 
of whoever selected it. It is on high, rolling prairie, 
with tlie Kansas on the south, the Republican on the 
west, heavy limestone bluffs on the nortli, and the best 
timber in middle or western Kansas all around. The 
barracks are comfortable, the hospital large and well 
placed, the officers' quarters spacious and elegant, and 
the stables most extensive and admirable. I hear that 
two millions of Uncle Sam's money have been expended 
in making these snug arrangements, and that the oats 
largely consumed here have often cost three dollars per 
bushel. I have seen nothing else at all aomparable to 
this in the way of preparations for passing life agreeably 
since I left the Missouri. 

"We here crossed by a rope ferry the Republican or 
northern fork of the Kansas, which, like the Big Blue, 
twenty -five miles back, seems nearly as large as the 
Kansas at its mouth, though the Smoky Hill, or southern 
fork at this point, is said to be the largest of the three. 
We met at the ferry a number of families, with a large 
herd of cattle, migrating from south-western Missouri to 
California, and crossing here to take the road up the 
right bank of the Republican to Fort Kearney and so to 
Laramie. They had exhausted their patience in trying 
to swim their cattle, and would hardly be able to get 
them all ferried over till next day. All day, as on pre- 



/ ON THE PLAINS. 73 

ceding days, we had been meeting ox-wagons loaded 
with disheartened Pike's Peakers, returning to their 
homes, but some of them going down into southern 
Kansas in search of " claims." Most of those we inter- 
rogated said they had been out as far as Fort Kearney 
(some two hundred miles further, I believe), before they 
were turned back by assurances that Pike's Peak is a 
humbug. 

Across the Republican, between it and the Smoky 
Hill, is Junction City, as yet the most western village 
in Kansas, save that another has been started some fifty 
miles up the Smoky Hill. "We stopped here for the 
night, and I talked republicanism in the church for an 
hour or so. Junction has a store, two hotels, and some 
thirty or forty dwellings, one of which is distinguished 
for its age, having been erected so long ago as 1858. A 
patriotic Junctioner excused his city for not possessing 
something which I inquired for, but which its rival, 
Manhattan, was supposed to have ; " for said he, " Man- 
hattan is three years old." As Junction is hardly a year 
old yet, the relative antiquity of Manhattan, and the re- 
sponsibilities therein involved, were indisputable. Junc- 
tion is the center of a fine agricultural region, though 
timber is not so abundant here as I wish it were. This 
region is being rapidly shingled with " claims ;" I hope 
it is likewise to be filled with settlers — though that does 
not always follow. Our landlord (a German) had tried 
California ; then Texas ; and now he is trying Kansas, 
which seems to agree with' him. 

We started again at six this morning, making a little 
north of west, and keeping the narrow belts of timber 



74 ON THE PLAINS. * 

along the Kepublican and the Smoky Hill respectively 
in full view for several miles on either side, until the 
streams diverged so far that we lost them in the bound- 
less sea of grass, A mile or two of progress carried us 
beyond any road but that traced only this spring for the 
Pike's Peak expresses ; for ten miles onward, no house, 
no field, no sign of human agency, this road and a few 
United States surveyors' stakes excepted, was visible ; 
at length we came to where a wretched cabin and an 
acre or so of broken and fenced prairie showed what a 
pioneer had been doing through the last two or three 
years, and beside it was a tavern — the last, I presume, 
this side of Pike's Peak. It consisted of a crotched 
stake which, with the squatter's fence aforesaid, support- 
ed a ridge-pole, across which some old sail-cloth was 
drawn, hanging down on either side, and forming a 
cabin some six by eight feet, and perhaps from three to 
five and a half feet high — large enough to contain two 
whisky-barrels, two decanters, several glasses, three or 
four cans of pickled oysters and two or three boxes of 
sardines, but nothing of the bread kind whatever. The 
hotel-keeper probably understood his business better 
than we did, and had declined to dissipate his evidently 
moderate capital by investing any part of it in articles 
not of prime necessity. Our wants being peculiar, we 
could not trade with him, but, after an interchange of 
courtesies, passed on. 

Two miles further, we crossed, by a bad and difficult 
ford, "Chapman's Creek," running south to the Smoky 
Hill, bordered by a thin streak of tim.ber, and meander- 
ing through a liberal valley of gloriously rich prairie. 



ON THE PLAINS. 75 

Here we passed the last settler on our road to Pike's 
Peak. He lias been here two or three years; has 
seventy-five acres fenced and broken, grew three thou- 
sand bushels of corn last year, has a fine stock of horses 
and cattle about him, with at least eight tow-headed 
children under ten years old. His house, judged super- 
ficially, would be dear at fifty dollars, but I think he 
neither needs nor wishes to be pitied. 

Our road bore hence north of west, up the left bank 
of Chapman's Creek, on which, twenty-three miles from 
Junction, we halted at "Station 8," at 11 a. m., to 
change mules and dine. (This station should be 'SlYO 
miles further on, and three or four miles further south, 
but cannot be for want of wood and water.) There is, of 
course, no house here, but two small tents and a brush 
arbor furnish accommodations for six to fifteen persons, 
as the case may be. A score of mules are picketed 
about on the rich grass ; there is a rail-pen for the two 
cows ; of our landlady's two sun-browned children (girls 
of ten and six respectively) one was born in Missouri, 
the other at Laramie. I was told that their father was 
killed b}^ Indians, and that the station-keeper is her 
second husband. She gave us an excellent dinner of 
bacon and greens, good bread, apple-sauce and pie, and 
would have given us butter had we passed a few days 
later ; but her cows, just arrived, have been over-driven, 
and need a few days rest and generous feeding. The 
water was too muddy — the prejudices of education 
would not permit me to drink it — the spring being sub- 
merged by the high water of the brook, which was the 
only remaining resource. She apologized for making 



76 ON THE PLAINS. 

lis eat in her narrow tent rather than under her brusli 
arbor, saying that the hist time she set the table there 
the high prairie- wind made a clean sweep of table- 
cloth and all upon it, breaking several of her not abmi- 
dant dishes. I have rarely made a better dinner, though 
the violent rain of the second previous night came nigh 
drowning out the whole concern. 

We were in the wagon again a few minutes before 
noon (the hours kept on the Plains are good), for we 
had thirty-five miles yet to make to-day, which, with a 
mule team require a long afternoon. True, the roads 
are harder here, less cut up, less muddy, than in Eastern 
Kansas ; but few men think how much up and down is 
saved them in traveling over a civilized region by 
bridges and causeways over water-courses. We still 
kept north of west for several miles, so as to cling to 
the high "divide " between Chapman's Creek and Solo- 
mon's Fork (another tributary of the Smoky Hill) so far 
as possible. Soon we saw our first antelope, and, in 
the course of the afternoon, five others ; but not one of 
them seemed to place a proper estimate on the value 
of our society. Two of them started up so near us as to 
be for a moment within possible rifle-shot; but they 
widened tlie gap between us directly. We crossed 
many old buff'alo-trails and buftalo-heads nearly reduced 
to the skeleton, but no signs that buffalo have been so 
far east this season. Two or three of the larger water- 
courses we crossed had here and there a cotton-wood 
or stunted elm on its banks, but the general dearth of 
timber is fearful, and in a dry season there can be little 
or no water on this long thirty-five miles. But it must 



OK THE PLAINS. 77 

be considered that our route avoids the streams, and of 
course the timber, to the utmost. The creek on which 
we are encamped (a branch of Solomon's) is now a fair 
mill-stream, but in a dry time might doubtless be run 
thi'ough a nine-inch ring. It has considerable wood on 
its banks — say a belt averaging ten rods in width. 

Twenty miles back, the rock suddenly changed en- 
tirely from the universal limestone of Kansas, east of 
Chapman's Creek to a decaying red sandstone; the 
soil hence becomes sandy and much thinner ; the grass 
is also less luxuriant, though in some places still good. 
For acres, especially on the higher ridges, there is little 
or no soil ; rock in place or slightly disturbed nearly 
covering the surface. Through all this region, the furi- 
ous rains, rushing off in torrents without obstruction, 
have worn wide and devious water-courses, but they 
are neither deep enough nor permanently wet enough 
to shelter timber. I reckon "claims" will not be 
greedily hunted nor bought at exorbitant prices here- 
abouts for some years yet. 

Our hostess for the night has two small tents, as at 
'No. 8, and gave us a capital supper, butter included ; 
but she and her two children alike testify that, in one 
of the drenching thunder-storms so frequent of late, 
they might nearly as well have been out on the prairie, 
and that sleeping under such a visitation is an art only 
to be acquired by degrees. They have a log-cabin 
going up, I am happy to say. Their tents were first 
located on the narrow bottom of the creek; but a 
rapidly rising flood compelled them, a few nights since, 
to scramble out, and move them to a higher bench of 



78 ON THE PLAINS. 

prairie. It would have been pitiful to have been turned 
out so, only the shelter they were enjoying was good 
for nothing. 

I believe I have now descended the ladder of artificial 
life nearly to its lowest round. If the Cheyennes — 
thirty of whom stopped the last express down on the 
route we must traverse, and tried to beg or steal from 
it — shall see fit to capture and strip us, we shall proba- 
bly have further experience in the same line ; but for 
the present the progress I have made during the last 
fortnight toward the primitive simplicity of human 
existence may be roughly noted thus : 

May Vltli. — Chicago. — Chocolate and morning news- 
papers last seen on the breakfast-table. 

23<^. — Leavenworth. — Koom-bells and baths make 
their final appearance. 

'^Uh. — Topeka. — Beef-steak and wash-bowls (other 
than tin) last visible. Barber ditto. 

26?5A. — Manhattan. — Potatoes and eggs last recog- 
nized among the blessings that " brighten as they take 
their flight." chairs ditto. 

27^'A. — Junction City. — Last visitation of a boot-black, 
with dissolving views of a board bedroom. Beds bid 
us good-by. 

28z5A. — Pijpe Creeh. — Benches for seats at meals have 
disappeared, giving place to bags and boxes. We (two 
passengers of a scribbling turn) write our letters in the 
express-wagon that has borne us by day, and must sup- 
ply us lodgings for the night. Thunder and lightning 
from both south and west give strong promise of a 



ON THE PLAINS. 79 

shower before morning. Dubious looks at several holes 
in the canvas covering of the wagon. Our trust, under 
Providence, is in buoyant hearts and an India-rubber 
blanket. Good-night. 



yn. 

THE HOME OF THE BUFFALO. 

Station 11, Pike's Peak Express, ) 
Clear Creek, Hay 29, 1859. f 

I CEASED writing 'No. YI. last niglit at midnight at 
Station 9 — the storm, which had been threatened since 
dark, jnst bm*sting in wind and rain. The wind was a 
gale, but upset neither tents nor wagons ; the rain fell 
for about an hour, then ceased, though a little more fell 
this morning, and we have had thunder and lightning 
at intervals through the day, and have it still, threaten- 
ing showers before dawn. We rose early from our 
wagon-bed this morning, had breakfast at six, and soon 
bade adieu to Pipe Creek, with its fringe of low elms 
and cotton-woods, such as thinly streak all the streams 
we have passed to-day that ai'e large enough to protect 
timber from prairie-fires. Yery soon, we were off the 
sandstone upon limestone again, which has been the 
only rock visible for the last forty miles, and this but 
sparingly. The soil is of course improved, but I think 
not equal to that of Eastern Kansas. The face of the 
country is slightly rolling — in one place, a level prairie 
e.''even miles wide — but even this is cut and washed out 
by shallow water-courses, probably dry a good part of 
each summer. We have crossed many streams to-day, 
all making south for Solomon's Fork, which has 
throughout been from two to six miles from us on our 



THE HOME OF TETE BrFFALO. 81 

left, its narrow belt of timber constantly sending out 
longer or shorter spurs up tlie creeks which feed it on 
either side. The route has been from fifty to two hun- 
dred feet above the bed of the Fork, keeping out of all 
bottoms and marshes, but continually cut by water- 
courses, often with abrupt banks and miry beds, in one 
of which only were we stalled until an extra span of 
mules was sent from the other wagon to our aid. (The 
express-wagons always go in pairs, for reciprocal aid 
and security.) I presume all the timber we have passed 
through since we left the Eepublican at Junction (and 
we are now one hundred and ten miles from it by our 
route, and perhaps one hundred in a straight line), 
would not form a belt half a mile wide, with but a few 
white-oaks to render it of any value except for fuel. A 
low, long-limbed, twisty elm, forms three-fourths of all 
the wood we have seen this side of Junction ; the resi- 
due is mainly cotton-wood. The streams are usually 
clear, except where riled by recent showers, and springs 
are not infrequent. If well timbered, this country 
would be rather inviting. It is largely covered with 
the dead stalks of the wild sunflower, which is said to 
indicate a good soil for corn. The sunflower plant has 
not started this season. 

On rising our first ridge this morning, a herd of buf- 
falo was seen grazing on the prairie some three miles 
toward the Solomon ; soon, more were visible ; then 
others. At length, a herd of perhaps a hundred ap- 
peared on the north — the only one we saw on that side 
of our road during the day. Having been observed, 
they were heading down the valley of a small creek 

4* 



82 THE HOME OF THE BUFFALO. 

toward the Solomon. Just then, the tents and wagons 
of a body of encamped Pike's Feakers appeared right 
across a little creek ; two men were running across the 
prairie on foot to get a shot at the buffalo ; another was 
mounting a horse with like intent. The herd passed on 
a long, awkward gallop north of the tents and struck 
southwest across our road some forty rods ahead of us. 
A Sharp's rifle was leveled and fired at them by one of 
our party, but seemed rather to hasten than arrest their 
progress. But one old bull shambled along behind in a 
knock-kneed fashion (having probably been lamed by 
some former party) ; and he was fired at twice by our 
marksmen as he attempted to cross the road — once 
when only fifteen rods distant. They thought they 
wounded him fatally, but he vanished from our sight 
behind a low hill, and their hasty search for him proved 
unsuccessful. 

Thence nearly all day, the buffalo in greater or less 
numbers were visible among the bottoms of the Solomon 
on our right — usually two to three miles distant. At 
length, about 5 p. m., we reached the crest of a 
" divide," whence we looked down on the valley of a 
creek running to the Solomon some three miles distant, 
and saw the whole region from half a mile to three 
miles south of our road, and for an extent of at least 
four miles east and west, fairly alive with buffalo. 
There certainly were not less than ten thousand of 
them; I believe there were many more. Some were 
feeding, others lying down, others pawing up the earth, 
rolling on it, etc. The novel spectacle was too tempting 
for our sportsmen. The wagons were stopped, and two 



THE HOME OF THE BUFFALO. 83 

men walked quietly toward tlie center of tlie front of the 
herd. Favored by a water-course, they crept up to 
within fifty rods of tiie buffalo, and fired eight or ten 
shots into the herd, with no visible efiect. The animals 
nearest the hunters retreated as they advanced, but the 
great body of the herd was no more disturbed or con- 
scious of danger than if a couple of mosquitos had 
alighted among them. After an hour of this fruitless 
eflFort, the hunters gave it up, alleging that their rifle 
was so foul and badly sighted as to be worthless. They 
rejoined us, and we came away, leaving nine-tenths of 
the vast herd exactly where we found them. And there 
they doubtless are sleeping at this moment, about three 
miles from us. 

We are near the heart of the buflfalo region. Tlie 
stages from the west that met us here this evening 
report the sight of millions within the last two days. 
Their trails chequer the prairie in every direction. A 
company of Pike's Peakers killed thirteen near this 
point a few days since. Eight were killed yesterday at 
the next station west of this by simply stampeding a 
herd and driving them over a high creek-bank, where 
so many broke their necks. Buffalo-meat is hanging or 
lying all around us, and a calf two or three months old 
is tied to a stake just beside our wagons. He was taken 
by rushing a herd up a steep creek-bank; wliich so 
many could not possibly climb at once; this one was 
picked out in the melee as most worth having, and 
taken with a rope. Though fast tied and with but a 
short tether, he is true game, and makes at whoever 
goes near him with desperate intent to butt the intruder 



84: THE HOME OF THE BUFFALO. 

over. We met or passed to-daj two parties of Pike's 
Peakers who had respectively lost three oxen or steers, 
stampeded last night by herds of buffalo. The mules at 
the express stations have to be carefully watched to pre- 
serve them from a similar catastrophe — to their owners. 

I d-o not like the flesh of this wild ox. It is tough and 
not juicy. I do not forget that our cookery is of the 
most unsophisticated pattern — carrying us back to the 
age of the building of the Pyramids, at least — but I 
would much rather see an immense herd of buffalo on 
the prairie than' eat the best of them. 

The herbage hereabout is nearly all the short, strong 
grass known as the buffalo-grass, and is closely fed 
down ; w^e are far beyond the stakes of the land-sur- 
veyor — beyond the usual haunts of white men. The 
Santa Fe trail is far south of us ; the California is con- 
siderably north. Yery probably, the buffalo on Solo- 
mon's Fork were never hunted by white men till this 
spring. Should one of these countless herds take a 
fancy for a man-hunt, our riflemen would find even the 
express-wagons no protection. 

Though our road is hardly two months old, yet we 
passed two graves on it to-day. One is that of an in- 
fant, born in a tent of the wife of one of the station- 
masters on her way to his post, and which lived but a 
day ; the other that of a Missourian on his way to Pike's 
Peak, who was accidentally shot in taking a rifle from 
his wagon. His party seems to have been singularly 
unfortunate. A camp or two further on, a hurricane 
overtook them and tore their six wagons into oven-wood; 
they were able to make but three passable wagons out 



THE HOME OF THE BUFFALO. 85 

• 

of the remains. Their loss in other property was seri- 
ous ; and they sustained much bodily harm. One more 
of them was buried a camp or two further on. 

Tliose whom we meet here coming down confirm the 
worst news we have had from the Peak. There is 
scarcely any gold there ; those who dig cannot average 
two shillings per day ; all who can get away are leaving; 
Denver and Auraria are nearly deserted ; terrible sufferT 
ings have been endured on the Plains, and more must 
yet be encountered ; hundreds would gladly work for 
their board, but cannot find employment — in short, 
Pike's Peak is an exploded bubble, which thousands 
must bitterly rue to the end of their days. Such is the 
tenor of our latest advices. I have received none this 
side of Leavenworth that contradict them. My inform- 
ant says all are getting away who can, and that we 
shall find the region nearly deserted. That is likely, but 
we shall see. 

A young clerk with whom I conversed at supper gave 
me a little less discouraging account ; but even he, 
having frozen his feet on the winter journey out, had 
had enough of gold-hunting, and was going home to his 
parents in Indiana, to stick to school for a few years. I 
commended that as a wise resolution. [N'ext morning, 
after we had started on our opposite ways, I was ap- 
prised by our conductor that said clerk was a woman ! 
I had not dreamed of such a thing ; but his more prac- 
tical or more suspicious eyes had seen through her dis- 
guise at once. We heard more of her at Denver — quite 
enough more — but this may as well be left untold. 



yni. 

LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 



Eeisinger's Creek, Station No. 13, ) 
Pike's Peak Express Co., May 31, 1859. f 



I WOULD rather not bore the public with buffalo. 1 
fully realize that the subject is not novel — that Irving, 
and Cooper, and many others, have written fully and 
admirably upon it ; and that the traveler's enthusiastic 
recital falls coldly on the ear of the distant, critical, un- 
sympathizing reader. Yet I insist on writing this once 
more on buffalo, promising then to drop the subject, as 
we pass out of the range of the buffalo before night. 
All day yesterday, they darkened the earth around us, 
often seemiug to be drawn up like an army in battle 
array on the ridges and adown their slopes a mile or so 
south of us — often on the north as well. They are rather 
shy of the little screens of straggling timber on the 
creek-bottoms — doubtless from their sore experience of 
Indians lurking therein to discharge arrows at them as 
they went down to drink. If they feed in the grass of 
the narrow valleys and ravines, they are careful to have 
a part of the herd on the ridges which overlook them, 
and with them the surrounding country for miles. And, 
when an alarm is given, they all rush furiously off in the 
direction which the leaders presume that of safety. 

This is what gives us such excellent opportunities for 
regarding them to the best advantage. They are mov- 



LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 87 

ing northward, and are still mainly south of our track. 
Whenever alarmed, they set off on their awkward but 
effective canter to the great herds still south, or to 
haunts with which they are comparatively familiar, and 
wherein they have hitherto found safety. This neces- 
sarily sends those north of us across our roads often but 
a few rods in front of us, even when they had started a 
mile away. Then a herd will commence running across 
a hundred rods ahead of us, and, the whole blindly fol- 
lowing their leader, we will be close upon them before 
the last will have cleared the track. Of course, they 
sometimes stop and tack, or, seeing us, sheer off and 
cross further ahead, or split into two lines ; but the gen- 
eral impulse, when alarmed, is to follow blindly and at 
full speed, seeming not to inquire or consider from what 
quarter danger is to be apprehended. 

What strikes the stranger with most amazement is 
their immense numbers. I know a million is a great 
many, but I am confident we saw that number yester- 
day. Certainly, all we saw could not have stood on ten 
square miles of ground. Often, the country for miles 
on either hand seemed quite black with them. The soil 
is rich, and well matted with their favorite grass. Yet 
it is all (except a very little on the creek-bottoms, near 
to timber) eaten down like an overtaxed sheep-pasture 
in a dry August. Consider that we have traversed 
more than one hundred miles in width since we first 
struck them, and that for most of this distance the buf- 
falo have been constantly in sight, and that they con- 
tinue for some twenty-five miles further on — this being 
the breadth of their present range, which has a length 



88 LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 

of perhaps a thousand miles — and you have some ap- 
proach to an idea of their countless myriads. I doubt 
whether the domesticated horned cattle of the United 
States equal the numbers, while they must fall consider- 
ably short in weight, of these wild ones. Margaret 
Fuller long ago observed that the Illinois prairies 
seemed to repel the idea of being new to civilized life 
and industry — that they, with their borders of trees and 
belts of timber, reminded the traveler rather of the 
parks and spacious fields of an old country like England 
— that you were constantly on the involuntary look-out 
for the chateaux, or at least the humbler farm-houses, 
which should diversify such a scene. True as this is or 
was of Illinois, the resemblance is far more striking 
here, where the grass is all so closely pastured and the 
cattle are seen in such vast herds on every ridge. The 
timber, too, aids the illusion, seeming to have been re- 
duced to the last degree consistent with the wants of a 
grazing country, and to have been left only on the steep 
creek-banks where grass would not grow. It is hard to 
realize that this is the center of a region of wilderness 
and solitude, so far as the labors of civilized man are 
concerned — that the first wagon passed through it some 
two months ago. But the utter absence of houses or 
buildings of any kind, and our unbridged, unworked 
road, winding on its way for hundreds of miles without 
a track other than of bufi'alo intersecting or leading 
away from it on either hand, bring us back to the 
reality. 

I shall pass lightly over the hunting exploits of our 
party. A good many shots have been fired — certainly 



LAST OF TUB BUFFALO. 89 

not by me ; even were I in the habit of making war on 
nature's children, I would as soon think of shooting my 
neighbor's oxen as these great, clumsy, harmless, crea- 
tures. If they were scarce, I might comi^rehend the 
idea of hunting them for sport ; here, they are so abun- 
dant that you might as well hunt your neighbor's geese. 
And, while there have been several shots fired by our 
party at point-blank, distance, I have reason for my 
hope that no buffalo has experienced any personal in- 
convenience therefrom. For this impunity, the foulness 
of the rifle has had to answer in part ; the greenness of 
the sportsmen is perhaps equally responsible for it. But 
then we have had no horse or mule out of our regular 
teams, and the candid will admit that a coach-and-four 
is not precisely the fittest turn-out for a hunting party. 

I write in the station-tent (having been driven from 
our wagon by the operation of greasing its wheels, which 
was found to interfere with the steadiness of my hastily- 
improvised table), with the buffalo visible on the ridges 
south and every way but north of us. They were very 
close down to us at daylight, and, till the increasing 
light revealed distinctly our position, since which they 
have kept a respectful distance. But a party of our 
drivers, who went back seven miles on mules last even- 
ing, to help get our rear w^agon out of a gully in which 
it had mired and stuck fast, from which expedition they 
returned at midnight, report that they found the road 
absolutely dangerous from the crowds of buffalo feeding 
on either side, and running across it— that, the night 
being quite dark, they were often in great danger of 
being run over and run down by the headlong brutes. 



90 LAST OF THE BrFFALO. 

They were obliged to stand still for minutes, and lire 
their revolvers right and left, to save their lives and 
their mules. 

The superintendent of this division, Mr. Fuller, had 
a narrow escaj)e day before yesterday. He was rid- 
ing his mule along our road, utterly unconscious of 
danger, when a herd of buffalo north of the road were 
stampeded by an emigrant train, and set off full gallop 
in a south-westerly direction, as usual. A slight ridge 
hid them from Mr. F.'s sight till their leader came full 
tilt against his mule, knocking him down, and going 
over him at full speed. Mr. F. of course fell with the 
dying mule, and I presume lay very snug by his side 
while the buffaloes made a clear sweep over the con- 
cern — he firing his revolver rapidly, and thus inducing 
many of the herd to shear off on one side or the other. 
He rose stunned and bruised, but still able to make his 
way to the station — with an increased respect for buf- 
falo, I fancy, and a disposition to give them a reason- 
ably wide berth hereafter. But he has gone out this 
morning in quest of the mired coach, and our waiting 
for his return gives me this chance to write without 
encroaching on the hours due to sleep. 

Two nights ago, an immense herd came down upon 
a party of Pike's Peakers camped just across the creek 
from this station, and, (it being dark) were with diffi- 
culty prevented from trampling down tents, cattle, and 
people. Some fifty shots were fired into them before 
they could be turned. And now our station-master has 
just taken his gun to scare them off so as to save our 
mules from a stampede. 



LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 91 

But tlie teams have returned with the missing coach, 
and I must break off and pack to go on. 



Station, 15, Prairie Dog Creek, May 31, evening. 

We have made fifty-five miles since we started about 
nine this morning, and our present encampment is on a 
creek running to the Republican, so that we have bid- 
den a final adieu to Solomon's Fork, and all other 
affluents of the Smoky Hill branch of the Kansas. We 
traveled on the "divide" between this and the northern 
branch of the Kansas for some miles to-day, and finally 
came over to the waters of that stream (the Repub- 
lican), which we are to strike some eighty miles further 
on. We are now just half way from Leavenworth to 
Denver, and our coach has been a week making this 
distance ; so that with equal good fortune we may 
expect to reach the land of gold in another week. The 
coaches we met here to-night have been just a week on 
the way, having (like us) lost a day, but not, like us, 
by high water : their bother was with wild Indians — 
Arapahoes mainly — whom they report to be in great 
numbers on our route — not hostile to us, but intent on 
begging or stealing, and stopping the wagons peremp- 
torily till their demands are complied with. They are 
at war with the Pawnees, and most of their men are 
now on the war-path ; their women and children are 
largely camped around the Express Company's Stations, 
living as they best may. The Pawnees, I believe, are 
mainly or entirely south of our road. The Arapahoes 
boast of triumphs and slaughters which I am tempted 



92 LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 

to hope, have been or will be reciprocated. Indian 
wars with each other are, in onr day, cruel and cow- 
ardly plundering forays, fitted to excite only disgust. 

As we left Station 14 this morning, and rose from the 
creek-bottom to the high prairie, a great herd of buffalo 
were seen in and around our road, who began to run 
first north, then south, many standing as if confused 
and undecided which course to take, and when at last 
they all started southward, we were so near them that 
our driver stopped his mnles to let the immense im- 
petuous herd pass witliout doing ns any harm. Our 
sportsman's Sharp was not loaded at the time ; it after- 
ward was, and fired into a herd at fair distance, but 
I did not see anything drop. After this, they were 
seen in greater or less numbers on the ridges and high 
prairie, mainly south of us, but they either kept a res- 
pecttul distance or soon took one. We have n6t seen 
one for the last twenty-five miles ; but they are now 
considerably further this way than they were a few 
days since ; and as every foot of the way thus far, and (I 
hear) further, is carpeted with buffalo-grass, not here 
eaten down, and as buffalo-paths and other evidences 
that this is their favorite feeding-ground are everywhere 
present, I presume they will be here in the course of a 
week. But enough of them. And let me here proffer 
my acknowledgments to sundry other quadrupeds with 
whom I have recently formed a passing aoquaintance. 

Tlie prairie-wolf was the first of these gentry to pay 
his respects to us. He is a sneaking, cowardly little 
wretch, of a dull or dirty white color, much resembling 
a small, short-bodied dog set up on pretty long legs. 



LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 93 

1 believe his only feat entitling him to rank as a beast 
of prey consists in sometimes, when hard pressed by 
hunger, digging out a prairie-dog and making a meal 
of him. His usual provender is the carcass — no matter 
how putrid — of any dead buffalo, mule, or ox that he 
may find exposed on the prairies. He is a paltry 
creature. 

But the gray-wolf — who is also a denizen of the 
prairies — (I think we have seen at least a dozen of the 
species to-day) — is a scoundrel of much more imposing 
caliber. He delights to lurk around the outskirts of a 
herd of buffalo, keeping out of sight and unsuspected in 
the ravines and creek-timber, so far as possible ; and 
wo to the unlucky calf that strays (which he seldom 
does) outside of the exterior line of defence formed by 
the bulls. If very large and hungry, the gray-wolf will 
sometimes manage to cut a cow off from the herd, and, 
interposing betw^een her and her companions, detain or 
drive her further away, until she is beyond the hope of 
rescue, when her doom is sealed. His liveliest hope, 
however, is that of finding a buffalo whom some hunter 
has wounded, so that he cannot keep up with the herd, 
especially should it be stampeded. Let him once get 
such a one by himself, and a few snaps at his ham- 
strings, taking excellent care to keep out of the way of 
his horns, insures that the victim will have ceased to be 
a buffalo, and become mere wolf-meat before another 
morning. 

It is impossible for a stranger to the prairies to realize 
the impudence of these prairie-lawyers. Of some twenty 
of them that I have seen within the last two days, I 



94: LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 

think not six have really run from us. One that we 
saw just before us, two hours ago, kept on his way 
across the prairie, stopping occasionally to take a good 
look at us, but not hurrying himself in the least on 
our account, though for some minutes within good rifle 
range. Once to-day, our superintendent sent a ball 
after one who was making very deliberate time away 
from us, hitting him in a quarter where the compliment 
should have expedited his movements ; but it did not 
seem to have that effect. It is very common for these 
wolves to follow at night a man traveling the road on a 
mule, not making any belligerent demonstrations, but 
waiting for whatever may turn up. Sometimes the ex- 
press-wagons have been followed in this way, but I 
think that unusual. But this creature is up to any thing 
wherein there is a chance for game. 

The prairie-dog is the funny fellow of these parts — 
frisky himself, and a source of merriment to otliers. 
He dens in villages or towns, on any dry, grassy ground 
— usually on the dryest part of the high prairie — and 
his hole is superficially a very large ant-hill, with the 
necessary orifice in its center. On this ant-hill sits the 
proprietor — a chunky little fellow, in size between a 
gray squirrel and a rabbit — say about half a woodchuck. 
"When we approach, he raises the cry of danger — no 
bark at all, but something between the piping of a frog 
on a warm spring evening, and the noise made by a 
very young puppy — then drops into his hole and is 
silent and invisible. The holes are not very regularly 
placed, but some thirty feet apart ; and when I say that 
I believe we have to-day passed within sight of at least 



LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 95 

three square miles of these holes, the reader can guess 
how many of these animals must exist here, even sup- 
posing that there is usually but one to each hole. I 
judge that there cannot be less than a hundred square 
miles of prairie-dog towns within the present buffalo 
range. 

That the prairie-dog and the owl — of a small, brown- 
backed, white-bellied species — do live harmoniously in 
the same hole I know, for I have seen it. 1 presume 
the owl i)ays for his lodgings like a gentleman, probably 
by turning in some provisions toward the supply of the 
common table. If so, this is the most successful ex- 
ample of industrial and household association yet fur- 
nished. That the rattlesnake is ever admitted as a third 
partner, I indignantly deny. 'No doubt he has been 
found in the prairie-dog's home — it would be just like 
him to seek so cozy a nest — but he doubtless entered 
like a true border-ruffian, and contrived to make him- 
self a deal more free than welcome. Politeness, or (if 
you please) prudence, may have induced the rightful 
owner to submit to a joint tenancy at will — the will of 
the tenant, not that of the rightful landlord — but no con- 
sent was ever given, unless under constraint of that po- 
tent logic which the intruder carries in his head, and 
warning whereof proceeds from the tip of his tail. 

Of antelope, I have seen many, but not so near at 
hand as I could wish. I defer speaking of them, in the 
hope of a better acquaintance. 

A w^ord now of the face of the country : 

For more than a hundred miles back, I have seen no 
stone, and think there is none, except at a great depth. 



96 LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 

Solomon's fork, where we left its vicinity, is now a stream 
two rods wide, running but four to six inches of water 
over a bed of pure sand, at a depth of some three or four 
hundred feet below the high prairie level of the country. 
I infer that there is no rock in place for at least that 
depth. Tlie subsoil of the prairies is generally a loamy 
clay, resting on a bed of sand. The violent though not 
frequent rains of this region form sheets of water, which 
rush down the slopes into the water-courses, which they 
rapidly swell into torrents, which, meeting no resistance 
from rocks or roots of trees, are constantly deepening 
or widening the ravines which run down to the creeks 
on every side. These gullies or gorges have originally 
steep, perpendicular banks, over which, in times of 
heavy rain, sheets of water go tumbling and roaring 
into the bottom of the ravines, washing down the sod- 
den, semi-liquid banks, and sending them to thicken the 
waters of the Kansas and the Missouri. Thus the prai- 
rie, save some narrow, irregular ridges, or "divides," is 
gradually scooped and worn into broader or narrower 
valleys, some of which have three or four little preci- 
pices at intervals up their sides, where they formerly 
had but one, and will eventually have none. For still 
the soil is washing away and running off to the Gulf of 
Mexico ; and if this country should ever be cultivated, 
the progress of this disaster would be materially accele- 
rated. It needs to be timbered before it can be fit for 
the habitation of civilized man. But still a few low 
cotton-woods and elms aloug the margins of the larger 
streams — not a cord of wood in all to each square mile 
— are all the timber that is to be seen. I hear of some 



LAST OF THE BUFFALO. 97 

poor oak on the broader streams, and an occasional 
wliite-ash, but do not see them. 

The prairie-wind shaking the wagon so that I write 
in it with difficulty, bespeaks a storm at hand. Adieu ! 

6 



IX. 

THE AMERICAN DESERT. 

Station 18, P. P. Express Co., June 2. 

The clouds, which threatened rain at *the station on 
Prairie-Dog Creek, whence I wrote two days ago, were 
dissipated by a violent gale, which threatened to over- 
turn the heavy wagon in which my fellow-passengers 
and I were courting sleep — had it stood broadside to 
the wind, it must have gone over. It is customary, I 
learn, to stake down the wagons encamped on the open 
prairie; in the valleys of the creeks, where the com- 
pany's stations are located, this precaution is deemed 
superfluous. But the winds which sweep the high prai- 
ries of this region are terrible ; and the few trees that 
grow thinly along the creek-bottoms rarely venture to 
raise their heads above the adjacent bluffs, to which 
they owe their doubtful hold on existence. 

Tor more than a hundred miles back, the soil has 
been steadily degenerating, until here, where we strike 
the Republican, which has been far to the north of us 
since we left it at Fort Riley, three hundred miles back, 
we seem to have reached the acme of barrenness and 
desolation. We left this morning, Station 17, on a little 
creek entitled Gouler, at least thirty miles back, and 
did not see a tree and but one bunch of low shrubs in a 
dry water-course throughout our dreary morning ride, 
till we came in sight of the Republican, which has a 



THE AMERICAN DESERT. 99 

little — a very little — scrubby cotton-wood nested in and 
along its bluffs just here; but tliere is none beside for 
miles, save a little lurking in a ravine wliich makes 
down to the river from the north. Of grass there is 
little, and that little of miserable quality — either a 
scanty furze or coarse alkaline sort of rush, less fit for. 
food than physic. Soil there is none but an inch or so 
of intermittent grass-root tangle, based an what usually 
seems to be a thin stratum of clay, often washed off so 
as to leave nothing but a slightly argillaceous sand. 
Along the larger w^ater-courses — this one especially — 
this sand seems to be as pure as Sahara can boast. 

The dearth of water is fearful. Although the whole 
region is deeply seamed and gullied by water-courses — 
now dry, but in rainy weather mill-streams — no springs 
burst from their steep sides. We have not passed a 
drop of living water in all our morning's ride, and but 
a few pailfuls of muddy moisture at the bottoms of a 
very few of the fast-drying sloughs or sunken holes in 
the beds of dried-up creeks. Yet there has been much 
rain here this season, some of it not long ago. But this 
is a region of sterility and thirst. If utterly unfed, the 
grass of a season w^ould hardly suffice, when dry, to 
nourish a prairie-fire. 

Even the animals have deserted us. No buffalo have 
been seen this year wdthin many miles of us, though 
their old paths lead occasionally across this country ; I 
presume they pass rapidly through it, as I should ur- 
gently advise them to do ; not a gray-wolf has honored 
us wdth his company to-day — he prefers to live where 
there is something to eat — the prairie-dog also wisely 



100 THE AMERICAN DESERT. 

shuns this land of starvation ; no animal but the gopher 
(a little creature, between a mouse and a ground-squir- 
rel) abounds here; and he burrows deep in the sand 
and picks up a living, I cannot guess how ; while a few 
hawks and an occasional prairie-wolf (cayota) lives by 
picking here and there a gopher. They must find him 
disgustingly lean. 

I would match this station and its surroundings 
against any other scene on our continent for desolation. 
From the high prairie over which we approach it, you 
overlook a grand sweep of treeless desert, through the 
middle of which flows the Kepublican, usually in sev- 
eral shallow streams separated by sandbars or islets — 
its whole volume being far less than that of the Mohawk 
at Utica, though it has drained above this point an area 
equal to that of Connecticut. Of the few scrubby cot- 
ton-woods lately cowering nnder the bluffs at this point, 
most have been cut for the uses of the station, though 
logs for its embryo house are drawn from a little clump, 
eight miles distant. A broad bed of sand indicates that 
the volume of water is sometimes a hundred-fold its 
present amount, though it will doubtless soon be far 
less than it now is. Its average depth cannot now ex- 
ceed six inches. On every hand, and for many miles 
above and below, the country above the blufis is such 
as we have passed over this morning. A dead mule — 
bitten in the jaw this morning by a rattlesnake — lies 
here as if to coiiiplete the scene. Off the five weeks 
old track to Pike's Peak, all is dreary solitude and 
silence. 

Speaking of rattlesnakes — I hasten to retract the 



THE AMEKICAK DESEET. 101 

skepticism avowed in a former letter as to the usual and 
welcome residence of these venomous serpents in the 
prairie-dog's burrow. The evidence of the fact is too 
direct and reliable to be gainsajed. A credible witness 
testifies that he and others once undertook to drown out 
a prairie-dog in his domicil, and, when sufficient water 
had been rapidly poured in, out came a prairie-dog, an 
owl, and a rattlesnake all together. In another case, a 
tremendous rain raised a creek so that it suddenly over- 
flowed a prairie-dog town, when the general stampede 
of prairie-dogs, owls, and rattlesnakes was a sight to 
behold. It is idle to attempt holding out against facts ; 
so I have pondered this anomaly until I think I clearly 
comprehend it. The case is much like that of some 
newspaper establishments, whose proprietors, it is said, 
find it convenient to keep on their stafif " a broth of a 
boy " from Tipperary, standing six feet two in his stock- 
ings and measuring a yard or more across the shoulders, 
who stands ready, with an illegant brogue, a twinkle in 
his eye, and a hickory sapling firmly grasped in his 
dexter fist, to respond to all choleric, peremptory cus- 
tomers, who call of a morning, hot with wrath and 
bristling with cowhide, to demand a parley with the 
editor. The cayota is a gentleman of an inquiring, in- 
vestigating turn, who is an adept at excavation, and 
whose fondness for prairie-dog is more ardent than flat- 
tering. To dig one out and digest him would be an 
easy task, if he were alone in his den, or with only the 
owl as his partner; but when the firm is known or 
strongly suspected to be Prairie-Dog, Rattlesnake & 
Co., the cayota's passion for subterranean researches is 



102 THE AMERICAN DESERT. 

uiateriallj cooled. The rattlesnake is to the concern 
what the fighting editor is to the journalistic organiza- 
tions aforesaid. And thus, while my faith is enlarged, 
is mj reason satisfied. 

A word now on the antelope. I liked him when I 
first saw him, days ago ; I then wished for a better ac- 
quaintance, which wish has since been gratified ; and 
sin«ce I dined with him (that is, off" of him) my esteem 
has ripened into afi'ection. Of the many antelopes I 
have seen, I judge a majority considerably larger than 
the deer of our eastern forests — not so tall nor (perhaps) 
80 long, but heavier in body, while hardly less swift or 
less graceful in motion. He is the only animal I have 
seen here that may justly boast of either grace or 
beauty. His flesh is tender and delicate — the choicest 
eating 1 have found in Kansas. Shy and fleet as he is, 
he is the chief sustenance at this season of the Indians 
out of the present bufi'alo range. An old hunter assures 
n>e that, with all his timidity, he is easily taken by the 
knowing. To follow him is absurd ; his scent is too 
keen, his fear too great ; but go upon a high prairie, to 
a knoll or swell whence you can overlook fifteen or 
twenty square miles ; there crouch in a hollow or in the 
grass, and hoist your handkerchief, or some red, flutter- 
ing scarf on a light pole, which you wave gently and 
patiently in the air ; soon the antelope, if there be one 
within sight, perceives the strange apparition : his cu- 
riosity is excited; it masters his caution; he makes 
toward the strange object, and keeps drawing nearer 
and nearer till he is within fifteen or twenty rods. The 
rest requires no instruction. 



THE AMERICAIJ DESERT. 103 

Station 21, June 3, (evening), 1859. 

Since I wrote the foregoing, we have traveled ninety 
miles up the south branch of the Kepublican (which 
forks just above Station 18) and have thus pursued a 
course somewhat south of west. In all these ninety 
miles, we have passed just two live streams making in 
from the south — both together running scarcely water 
enough to turn a grind-stone. In all these ninety miles, 
we have not seen wood enough to make a decent pig- 
pen. The bottom of the river is perhaps half a mile in 
average width ; the soil in good part clay and covered 
with a short, thin grass ; the bluffs are naked sand-heaps ; 
the rock, in the rare cases where any is exposed, an odd 
conglomerate of petrified clay with quartz and some 
specks that resemble cornelian. Beside this, in some of 
the bluffs, where clay overlies and is blended, under 
peculiar circumstances, with the sand below it, a sort of 
rock seems to be formed or in process of formation. 
Water is obtained from the apology for a river, or by 
digging in the sand by its side ; in default of wood, cor- 
rals (cattle-pens) are formed at the stations by laying up 
a heavy wall of clayey earth flanked by sods, and thus 
excavating a deep ditch on the inner side, except at the 
portal, which is closed at night by running a wagon 
into it. The tents are sodded at their bases ; houses 
of sods are to be constructed so soon as may be. Such 
are the shifts of human ingenuity in a country which 
has probably not a cord of growing wood to each town- 
ship of land. 

Six miles further up, this fork of the Kepublican 
emerges from its sandy bed, in which it has been lost 



104 THE AMERICAN DESERT. 

for the twentj-five miles next above. Of course, it 
loses in volume in passing through such a land of drouth. 
Probably thirty times to-day we have crossed the broad 
sandy beds of creeks running down from the high prai- 
ries — creeks which in winter and early spring are sweep- 
ing torrents, but now are wastes of thirsty sand. Thus 
has it been for ninety miles — thus is it for many miles 
above and I presume many also below. The road from 
Leavenworth to Denver had to be taken some fifty 
miles north of its due course to obtain even su<ih a pas- 
sage through the American Desert; on a direct line 
from the head of Solomon's Fork, it must have passed 
over some two hundred miles of entire absence of wood 
and water. 

I have seen, during the last three or four days, seve- 
ral bands of wild Indians — Arapahoes, Cheyenn-es, 
Kioways, Sioux, etc. — mainly the two former. Of 
these, the Arapahoes have been the most numerous and 
repulsive. Their children swarmed around us at Station 
16 — the men being mainly absent on a marauding expe- 
dition against the Pawnees — the women staying in their 
lodges. The young ones are thorough savages — their 
allowance of clothing averaging six inches square of 
buffalo-skin to each, but so unequally distributed (as is 
the case with worldly goods in general) that the majori- 
ty have a most scanty allowance. A large Cheyenne 
village is encamped around Station 19, where we stopped 
last night ; and we have been meeting squads of these 
and other tribes several times a day. The Kioways are 
camped some eight miles from this spot. Tliey all pro- 
fess to be friendly, though the Cheyennes have twice 



THE AMEBIC A]Sr DESERT. 105 

stopped and delayed the express- wagons on pretence of 
claiming payment for the injury done them in cutting 
wood, eating grass, scaring away game, etc. They 
would all like to beg, and many of them are deemed not 
disinclined to steal. We are to pass through several 
more encampments, but expect no trouble from them. 
The Cheyennes are better clad, and seem to have more 
self-respect than the Arapahoes, but they are all low in 
the scale of intellectual and moral being, and must fade 
away unless they can be induced to work. More of 
them hereafter. 

The unusual dullness of this letter is partly explained 
by an accident. Two evenings since, just as we were 
nearing Station 17, where we were to stop for the niglit, 
my fellow-passenger and I had a jocular discussion on 
the gullies into which we were so frequently plunged, to 
our personal discomfort. He premised that it was a 
consolation that the sides of these gullies could not be 
worse than perpendicular ; to which I rejoined with the 
assertion that they could be and were — for instance, 
where a gully, in addition to its perpendicular descent 
had an inclination of forty-five degrees or so to one side 
of the track. Just then, a violent lurch of the wagon 
to one side, then to the other, in descending one of these 
jolts, enforced my position. Two minutes later, as we 
were about to descend the steep bank of the creek-in- 
tervale, the mules acting perversely (being frightened, I 
fear, by Indians) my friend stepped out to take them by 
the head, leaving me alone in the wagon. Immediately 
we began to descend the steep pitch, the driver pulling 
lip with all his might, when the left rein of the leaders 

5* 



106 THE AMERICAN DESEET. 

broke, and the team was in a moment sheared ont of the 
road and ran diagonally down the pitch. In a second, 
the wagon went over, hitting the ground a most spite- 
ful blow. I of course went over w^ith it, and when I 
rose to my feet as soon as possible, considerable bewild- 
ered and disheveled, the mules had been disengaged by 
the upset and were making good time across the prairie, 
while the driver, considerably hurt, was getting out 
from under the carriage to limp after them. I had a 
slight cut on my left cheek and a deep gouge from the 
sharp corner of a seat in my left leg below the knee, 
with a pretty smart concussion generally, but not a bone 
started nor a tendon strained, and I walked away to the 
station as firmly as ever, leaving the superintendent and 
my fellow-passenger to pick up the pieces and guard 
the baggage from the Indians who instantly swarmed 
about the wreck. I am sore yet, and a little lame, but 
three or four days' rest — if I can ever get it — will make 
all right. This is the first and only accident that has 
happened to the express-line, though it has run out some 
thirty passage-wagons from Leavenworth, and perhaps 
half so many back from Denver, over a track where 
there was no track six weeks ago. And this was the 
result of a casualty for which neither driver nor company 
was to blame. 

Three days hence, I hope to be at Denver (one hun- 
dred and eighty-five miles distant), whence our latest 
advices are very cheering to the hearts of the legions of 
faint and weary gold-seekers we have passed on the 
way. I trust, for their sakes, that this news will prove 
fully true. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE DESERT. 

Denter, June 6, 1859. 

My last, I believe, was written at Station 20, ninety 
miles up the Republican from the point at which the 
Leavenworth Express Company's road strikes that river 
in the great American desert. Six miles farther up, the 
stream disappears in the deep, thirsty sands of its wide 
bed, and is not seen again for twenty-five miles. Even 
a mile or two below its point of disappearance, I loam 
that recent excavations in its bed to a depth of eight 
feet have failed to reach water. Its reappearance below 
this point is marked, and seems to be caused, by the 
timely junction of a small tributary from the south, 
which appears to flow over a less thii'sty bed, and pours 
into the devouring sands of the Eepublican a small but 
steady stream, aided by which the river begins to reap- 
pear, first in pools, and soon in an insignificant but 
gradually increasing current. At the head of this 
" sink," the stream disappears in like manner to that of 
its emergence. Here is Station 22, and here are a so- 
called spring, and one or two considerable pools, not 
visibly connected with the sinking river, but doubtless 
sustained by it. And here the thirsty men and teams 
which have been twenty-five miles without water on the 
Express Company's road, are met by tliose which have 
come up the longer and more southerly roate by the 



108 GOOD-BYE TO THE DESEKT. 

Smoky Hill, and wliich liave traveled sixty miles since 
they last found water or shade. This is a sore trial for 
weary, gaunt, heavy-laden cattle, and doubtless proves 
fatal to many of them. The Pike's Peakers from the 
Smoky Hill whom I met here, had driven their ox- 
teams through the sixty miles at one stretch, the time 
required being two days and the intervening night. 
From this point westward, the original Smoky Hill 
route is abandoned for that we had been traveling, 
which follows the Kepublican some twenty -five miles 
further. Its bed is often dry, or only moistened by little 
pools exuding from the meagre current which filters 
slowly through the deep sands below. Where the bed 
is narrow and the channel under one bank, the petty 
stream is seen creeping slowly away to the Kansas, the 
Missouri, the Mississippi, the Gulf of Mexico. Of 
course there are seasons when the river runs above- 
ground throughout, and others when the " sink" is far 
longer than now. 

The face of the country remains as I have already 
described it, save in the greater scarcity of wood and 
water. The blufi*s are usuall}^ low, and the dry creeks 
which separate them are often wide reaches of heavy 
sand, most trying to the ill-fed teams. There is little 
grass on the rolling prairie above the blufls, and that 
little generally thin, dead, worthless. Some of the dry- 
creek valleys have a little that is green but thin, while 
the river bottom — often half a mile wide — is sometimes 
tolerably grassed, and sometimes sandy and sterile. Of 
wood, there is none for stretches of forty or fifty miles : 
the corraU. are made of earth, and consist of a trench 



GOOD-EYE TO TUE DESERT. 109 

and a mud or turf wall ; one or two station-houses are 
to be built of turf if ever built at all ; and at one sta- 
tion the fuel is brought sixty miles from the pineries 
further west. Even the grasses are often coarse and 
rushy, or so alkaline as to be injurious to cattle; the 
more common plants seem to be wild sage and wild 
wormwood. The cactus — which had begun to appear 
some two hundred miles back — grows common, but is 
dwarfed by the pervading sterility; the Spanish nettle 
and prickly pear are abundant further on. But little 
rock is seen, and that looks like a volcanic conglomerate. 
Yet the river, such as it is, is the life of this region ; 
the ground-squirrel of the prairies digs his holes pro- 
fusely in its vicinage; the hawk and the raven circle 
and swoop in pursuit of hitn ; the antelope often looks 
down from the ridges, and is hunted with success ; the 
bark of the cayote is heard ; the gray -wolf prowls fear- 
less and ferocious, and does not hesitate to rob cows of 
their young calves in spite of the desperate maternal re- 
sistance, and even to attack and disable ponies. The 
harness of the mules which draw the express- wagons 
have been often gnawed and injured as they hung up 
beside the tents, in which half a dozen men were sleep- 
ing, by these impudent miscreants. They may easily be 
shot by any one who will bait and patiently, skillfully 
hunt them. 

A ride over a rolling " divide" of some twenty miles, 
brought us to the " Big Sandy," running south-west to 
become tributary (when it has anything to contribute) 
to the Arkansas. Like the Republican, it is sometimes 
a running stream, sometimes a succession of shallow 



110 GOOD-BYE TO THE DESERT. 

pools, sometimes a waste of deep, scorching sand. A 
few paltry cotton-woods, a few bunches of low willow, 
may have graced its banks or those of some dry creek 
running into it, in the course of the twenty miles or so 
that we followed up its northern bank, but I do not now 
remember any. I recollect only that the grass at inter- 
vals along its narrow bottoms seemed a little better than 
on the upper course of the Republican. One peculi- 
arity of the Big Sandy I had not before observed — that 
of a thin, alkaline incrustation — mainly of soda, I be- 
lieve — covering many acres of the smoother sands in its 
dry bed. Hence I infer that the water of its stagnant 
pools must be prejudicial to man or beast. At length 
we crossed its deep, trying sand and left it behind us, 
passing over a high " divide," much cut up by gullies 
through which the water of the wet seasons tears its 
way to the Arkansas on the south or the Platte on the 
north, until we struck, at five last evening, the first liv- 
ing tributary to the Platte — a little creek called Eeaver, 
wliich I have not seen on any map. It is about ten 
miles east of the Bijou, with which it probably unites 
before reaching the Platte. 

After leaving the valley of Big Sandy, the grass of 
the uplands becomes better, and is no longer confined 
to the water-courses. It spreads in green luxuriance 
up the southward slopes of considerable hills, wliich 
seems to be owing to vast drifts of snow in winter, 
swept over and off the tops of hills by the fierce prairie- 
winds, and piled up here to a height of fifteen or twenty 
feet, to be slowly dissolved by the warmer suns of the 
spring months, and thus give rise to an after-growth of 



GOOD-BYE TO THE DESERT. Ill 

grass which contrasts strongly with the surrounding 
sterility. 

At Beaver Creek we saw, for the first time in many 
weary days — for more than two hundred miles at the least 
— a clump of low but sturdy cotton-woods, thirty or 
forty in number — part of them laid low by the devasta- 
ting axe, but still giving hope that the desert was nearly 
past. And, six or seven miles further, just as night was 
falling, we came in sight of pines, giving double assu- 
rance that the mountains were at hand. Pike's Peak 
in the west-south-west, and Long's Peak in the west- 
north-west, (the latter nearly the direction of Denver), 
had stood revealed to us hours before, by the gleam of 
their snowy diadems, as the morning sun dispelled the 
chill mists of the preceding night ; but their majesty 
w^as a bleak and rugged one ; while the pines, though 
but scattered clumps of the short and scrubby variety 
known in New-England and the south as pitch-pine, 
lent a grace and hospitality to the landscape which only 
the weary and wayworn, who have long traversed 
parched and shadeless deserts, can appreciate. Tliey 
grow here mainly in steep ravines, and often show marks 
of fire which the bareness of the surrounding prairies — 
sterile as " pine plains" are apt to be — renders to me in- 
explicable. Possibly, the fires that scorched them were 
kindled in the leafy carpet spread beneath them by the 
trees themselves. 

This is but the northern outskirt of the pine region, 
which stretches far south, through Arkansas and be- 
yond, soon thickening into forests and widening to a 
breadth of some sixty miles. Scattered as it is, I could 



112 GOOD-BYE TO THE DESEET. 

hardly repress a shout on meeting it. And it was a 
pleasure to see, last evening, the many parties of way- 
worn gold-seekers encamped beside our way, after 
their long journey through a woodless region, surround- 
ing great, ruddy, leaping fires of the dead pitch- wood, 
and solacing themselves for their long privation by the 
amplest allowance of blaze and warmth ; for the climate 
of the Auierican desert is terrible. Be the day ever so 
hot in the sun's unsoftened glare, the night that follows 
is sure to be chill and piercing, driving the musketoes 
and bnfi'alo-gnats to their hiding-places directly after 
sunset. The fierce prairie-wind searches to the marrow 
(ice froze a quarter of an inch thick on the Plains on 
the 26th of May), and a shower at this season is very 
apt to be accompanied by hail as well as thunder and 
lightning. 1 trust our country has no harsher climate, 
save high among her grandest mountains. 

From the Bijou to Cherry Creek — some forty miles — 
I can say little of the country, save that it is high roll- 
ing prairie, deeply cut b}^ several streams, which run 
north-eastwardly to join the Platte, or one of its tribu- 
taries just named. We passed it in the night, hurrying 
on to reach Denver, and at sunrise this morning stopped 
to change mules on the bank of Cherry Creek, twelve 
miles south of this place (which is situated at the junc- 
tion of the creek with the south fork of the Platte). 
The " foot hills " of the Rocky Mountains seemed but 
a few miles west of us during our rapid ride down the 
smooth valley of the Cherry Creek, which has a fine 
belt of cotton-wood only, but including trees of immense 
size — not less than three to four feet in diameter. The 



GOOD-BYE TO THE DESERT. 113 

soil of the adjacent prairie seems light and sandy, 
but well grassed, and capable of yielding oats, potatoes, 
etc. ; but the elevation (hardly less than six thousand 
feet), and the proximity of the Kocky Mountains, whose 
snow-covered crests, gleaming between and over the 
"foot hills," seem hardly twenty miles distant, must ever 
render the growth of corn difficult, if not absolutely 
impossible. Wheat, I understand, has been grown iifty 
to eighty miles south of this, with moderate success. 
Still, if the adjacent gold mines realize the sanguine 
expectations now entertained here, this region will re- 
quire millions on millions' worth of food from the rich 
prairies and bottoms of Kansas proper, Nebraska, and 
Missouri, and we shall need but the Pacific railroad to 
open up a most beneficent home-trade, and give the rich 
valley of the Missouri and its immediate tributaries 
better markets than those of the east. 

And I fervently trust that the fond expectations of 
these gold-seekers, however chastened, may not be dis- 
appointed. For the sake of the wear}^, dusty, foot-sore 
thousands I have passed on my rapid journey from 
civilized Kansas to this point, I pray that gold may be 
found here in boundless extent, and reasonable abund- 
ance. Throughout the next six weeks, they will be 
dropping in here, a hundred or more per day ; and I 
trust that they are not to be sent home disappointed, 
spirit-broken, penniless. If they must recross the great 
desert with their slow-moving teams, may they be en- 
abled to do so with lighter hearts and heavier purses. 

For the very mothers who bore them would hardly 
recognize their sons now toiling across the Plains, and 



114 GOOD-BYE TO THE DESEKT. 

straggling into this place, hideously hirsute, recklessly 
ragged, barefoot, sun-browned, dust-covered, and with 
eyes shielded (where they have them) by goggles from 
the glare of the prairie-sun, reflected from the desert 
clay. A true picture of gold-seekers setting out from 
home, trim and jolly, for Pike's Peak, and of those 
same gold-seekers, sober as judges, and slow-moving as 
their own weary oxen, dropping into Denver, would 
convey a salutary lesson to many a sanguine soul. Nay, 
I have in my mind's eye an individual who rolled out 
of Leavenworth, barely thirteen days ago, in a satisfactory 
rig, and a spirit of adequate self-complacency, but who 
— though his hardships have been nothing to theirs — 
dropped into Denver this morning in a sobered and 
thoughtful frame of mind, in dust-begrimed and tat- 
tered habiliments, with a patch on his cheek, a bandage 
on his leg, and a limp in his gait, altogether constitu- 
ting a spectacle most rueful to behold. It is likely to be 
some time yet before our fashionable American spas, 
and summer resorts for idlers will be located among the 
Pocky Mountains. 

As to gold, Denver is crazy. She has been low in 
the valley of humiliation, and is suddenly exalted to 
the summit of glory. The stories of days' w^orks, and 
ricli leads that have been told me to-day^ — by grave, 
intelligent men — are absolutely bewildering. I do not 
discredit them, but I shall state nothing at second-hand 
where I may know if I will. I have come here to lay 
my hand on the naked, indisputable facts, and I mean 
to do it. Though unfit to travel, I start for the great 
diggings (fifty miles hence nearly due west in the glens 
of the Kocky Mountains) to-morrow morning. 



XI. 

THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

In the Rocky Mountains, ) 
Gregory's Diggings, June 9, 1859. ) 

We left Denver at six yesterday morning, in a wagon 
drawn by four mules, crossing immediately by a rope 
ferry the south fork of the Platte. This fork is a swift, 
clear, cold stream, now several feet deep and some 
twenty rods wide, but fordable except when snows are 
melting in the mountains. Many gold-seekers' wagons 
were waiting to cross, and more were momently arri- 
ving, so that the ferryman at least must be making his 
pile out of the diggings. Henceforward, our way lay 
north-west for fifteen miles, across a rolling and well- 
grassed prairie, on which one or two farms had been 
commenced, while two or three persons have just estab- 
lished "ranches" — that is, have built each his corral, in 
which cattle are herded at night, while allowed to run 
at large on the prairie during the day : $1.50 per month 
is the usual price per head for herding in this way, and 
the cattle are said to do very well. The miners leave 
or send back their cattle to herd on these prairies, while 
they prosecute their operations in the mountains where 
feed is generally scarce. 

Reaching Clear Creek, (properly Yasquer's Fork), a 
cold, swift, rocky-bottomed stream, which emerges just 
above through a deep, narrow canon from the Rocky 



116 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

Mountains — we left our wagons, saddled the mules and 
forded the creek — (and it was all our mules could do to 
stem its impetuous current) — ascended a gentle, grassy 
slope to the foot of Rocky Mountains — which had for 
an hour seemed almost within a stone-throw on our left. 
Now they were to be faced directly, and the prospect 
was really serious. The hill on which we were to make 
our first essay in climbing, rose to a height of one thou- 
sand six hundred feet in a little more than a mile — the as- 
cent for most of the distance being more than one foot in 
three. I never before saw teams forced up such a preci- 
pice; yet there were wagons with ten or twelve hun- 
dred weight of mining tools, bedding, provisions, etc., 
being dragged by four to eight yoke of oxen up that 
giddy precipice, with four or five men lifting at the 
wheels of each. The average time consumed in the as- 
cent is some two hours. Our mules, unused to such 
work, were visibly appalled by it ; at first they resisted 
every effort to force them up, even by zigzags. My 
companions all walked, but I was lame and had to ride, 
much to my mule's intense disgust. He was stubborn, 
but strong, and in time bore me safely to the summit. 

New as this rugged road is — it was first traversed five 
weeks ago to-day — death had traveled it before me. 
A young man, shot dead while carelessly drawing a 
rifle from his wagon, lies buried by the roadside on this 
mountain. I have heard of so many accidents of this 
nature — not less than a dozen gold-seekers having been 
shot in this manner during the last two months — that I 
marvel at the carelessness with w4iich fire-arms are 
every where handled on this side of the Missouri. Had 



THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 117 

no single emigrant across the Plains this season armed 
himself, the number of them alive at this moment 
would have been greater than it is. 

We traveled some two miles along the crest of this 
mountain, then descended, b}^ a pitch equally sharp with 
the ascent, but shorter, to a ravine, in which we rested 
our weary animals and dined. That dinner — of cold 
ham, bread and cheese — was one of the best relished of 
any I ever shared. Re-saddling, w^e climbed another 
precipice a little less steep — and so up and down for ten 
miles, when we descended into the narrow valley of a 
little branch of Clear Creek, and thenceforward had ten 
miles of relatively smooth going, crossing from one val- 
ley to another over hills of moderate elevation and easy 
ascent. 

A wilderness of mountains rose all around us, some 
higher, some lower, but generally very steep, with sharp, 
narrow ridges for their summits. Some of them are 
thinly grassed, between widely scattered trees up their 
sides and on their tops; but they are generally tim- 
bered, and mainly with yellows-pine, some of it quite 
large, but more of it small and apparently young. 
High on the mountains, this pine is short and scraggy, 
while in the ravines it grows tall and shapely, but aver- 
ages not more than a foot in diameter. Hurricanes 
have frequently swept these mountains, prostrating the 
pines by scores; fires have ravaged and decimated 
them; still, pines on the summits, pines on the hill 
sides, pines even in the ravines, are all but universal. 
The balsam-fir grows sparingly in the ravines ; hemlock, 
also, is reported, though I have not seen it : but the 



118 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

quaking-asp or aspen — which seems but a more delicate 
species of cottou-wood — is thick-set in the ravines, and 
sometimes appears on tlie more moderate acchvities, as 
do gooseberry bushes in the glens. Brooks of the pu- 
rest water murmur and sing in every ravine ; springs 
abound ; the air is singularly pure and bracing ; the elk, 
black-tailed deer and mountain-sheep are plentiful, ex- 
cept where disturbed by the in-rush of emigration ; 
grouse are common and bold : the solitude was sylvan 
and perfect until a few weeks ago. All is now being 
rapidly changed, and not entirely for the better. 

We had a smart shower, with thunder and light- 
ning, during the afternoon, which compelled us to halt a 
few minutes. Another such this afternoon, indicates 
that it is a habit of the country. I am told, however, 
that though thunder is common, rain is generally with- 
held at this season, or confined to a mere sprinkle. 

JS'ight fell upon us, while yet six or seven miles from 
the diggings, and we camped in the edge of the pines, 
on the brow of a gentle acclivity, with a prospect of 
grass as well as water for our weary, hungry beasts 
down the slope south of us. Mine had fallen to her 
knees in the last water-course we had passed, very 
nearly throwing me over her head ; had she done it, I 
am sure I had not the strength left to rise and remount, 
and hardly to walk the remainino: half mile. As it 
was, I had to be lifted tenderly from my saddle and laid 
on a blanket, with two more above me, where I lay 
while the fire was built, supper prepared, and a lodge 
of dry poles and green pine boughs hastily erected. I 
was too tired to eat, but the bright, leaping flame from 



THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 119 

the dry pines heaped on our fire gradually overcame 
the shivering, which was about the only sign of vitality 
I showed when first laid down, and I at length.resumed 
the perpendicular by an effort, and took my place in 
our booth, where sleep but fitfully visited me during 
that bright, cool, short summer night. But this left me 
more time to rub my chafed and stiffened limbs, so that, 
when breakfast was called in the morning, I was ready, 
appetite included, and prepared to dispel the apprehen- 
sions of those who had predicted, on seeing me taken 
off* my mule, that I must be left there for at least a day. 
By six o'clock, we were again in the saddle, and push- 
ing on, over a stony but rather level table-land, which 
extended for two or three miles, thickly covered with 
young pines and aspens, to the next ravine, whence the 
road leads up a short, steep hill, then down a very long, 
equally steep one, to Ralston's fork of Clear Creek — 
being as rapid and rock-bottomed as where we had 
crossed the main creek the day before thirty miles 
below, but with only one-third the volume of water, so 
that we forded it easily without a wet foot. A little 
runnel coming in from the west directly at the ford, 
with its natural translucency changed to milky white 
ness by the running of its waters through sluices in 
which the process of gold-washing was going forward, 
gave us assurance that we were in immediate proximity 
to the new but already famous w^orkings called, after 
their discoverer, " Gregory's Diggings."* 

I shall not here speak of their pecuniary success or 



* Xow (October) known as "Mountain City." 



120 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

promise, though I have visited, during the day, a major- 
ity of those which have sluices ab*eady in operation, 
and received reports from my fellow-visitors from nearly 
all the others. Having united w^ith them in a statement 
— to be herewith forwarded — of what we saw and 
learned, I refer those who feel any interest in the mat- 
ter to that statement. What I propose here to do is to 
give the reader some idea of the place and its general 
aspects. 

The little brook which here joins Clear Creek from 
the west starts at the foot of mountains three or four 
miles distant, and runs in a usually narrow ravine be- 
tween generally steep hills from five hundred to fifteen 
hundred feet high. Gregory!s lead is very near its 
mouth ; half a mile above seems the lieart of the present 
mining region, though there are already sluices in oper- 
ation at intervals for at least two miles up the runnel, 
and others are soon to be started at intervals above 
them. Three or four miles south-west from its mouth, 
are Russell's Diggings, where coarse gold is procured, 
but I was unable to visit them. Prospecting is actively 
going forward in every direction, and vague reports of 
lucky hits or brilliant prospects are started on this side 
or on that, but I have not been able to verify them. 
It is no disparagement to the others to say that, though 
mining is carried on at various points within a radius of 
thirty miles from this spot, " Gregory's Diggings " are 
to-day the chief hope of gold-mining in the Rocky 
Mountains. 

Six weeks ago, this ravine was a solitude, the favorite 
haunt of the elk, the deer, and other shy denizens of the 



THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 121 

profoundest wildernesses, seldom invaded by the foot- 
steps of man. I believe this strip of country has long 
been debatable land between the Utes and the Arapa- 
hoes, which circumstance combined with its rarely acces- 
sible situation to secure its wild tenants against human 
intrusion and persecution. I hear that the Arapahoes 
say that a good " lodge-pole trail " — that is, one which a 
pony may traverse with one end of the lodge-poles on 
his back, the other trailing behind him — exists from 
this, point to the open prairie where Clear Creek de- 
bo-uches from the mountains — a trail which doubtless 
winds along the steep sides of the ravines and avoids 
the rugged heights necessarily traversed by tlie miner's 
wagon-road. Should these diggings justify their j)resent 
promise, I doubt not a road will in time be made, re- 
ducing by one-half — say five thousand feet — the present 
aggregate of ascent and descent between this and Den- 
ver. But an unworked wagon-road must avoid the 
sides of these steep-banked ravines, running square up 
the faces and along the crests of the mountains, so that 
this spot is destined to remain barely accessible for at 
least another year. 

This narrow valley is densely wooded, mainly with 
the inevitable yellow-pine, which, sheltered from the 
fierce winds which sweep the mountain-tops, here grows 
to a height of sixty or eighty feet, though usually but a 
foot to eighteen inches in diameter. Of these pines, 
log-cabins are constructed with extreme facility, and 
probably one hundred are now being built, while three 
or four hundred more are' in immediate contemplation. 
They are covered with the green boughs of the pines, 



122 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

tlien with earth, and bid fair to be commodious and 
comfortable. As yet, the entire population of the valley 
— which cannot number less than four thousand, includ- 
ing live white women and seven squaws living with 
white men — sleep in tents, or under booths of pine 
boughs, cooking and eating in the open air. I doubt 
that there is as yet a table or chair in these diggings, 
eating being done around a cloth spread on the ground, 
while each one sits or reclines on mother earth. The 
food, like that of the plains, is restricted to a few staples 
— ^pork, hot bread, beans and cofiee forming the almost 
exclusive diet of the mountains ; but a meat-shop has 
just been established, on whose altar are offered up the 
ill-fed and well- whipped oxen who are just in from a 
fifty days' journey across the plains, and one or two 
cows have been driven in, as more would be if they 
could here been subsisted. But these mountains are 
mainly wooded, while the open hill-sides are so dry 
during summer that their grass is very scanty. It is 
melancholy to see so many over-worked and half-starved 
cattle as one meets or passes in this ravine and on the 
way hither. Corn is four dollars per bushel in Denver, 
and scarce at that ; oats are not to be had ; there is not 
a ton of hay within two hundred miles, and none can 
ever be brought hither over the present road at a cost 
below forty dollars per ton. The present shift of humane 
owners is to herd their oxen or mules on the rich grass 
of the nearest prairies for a week or so, then bring them 
in here and keep them at work for a week or more, let- 
ting them subsist on browse and a very little grass, and 
then send them down the mountain again. This, bad 



THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 123 

as it is, seems the best that can be done. Living of all 
kinds will always be dear at these mines, where Ameri- 
can flour is now selling at the rate of forty-four dolhirs 
per barrel, and bacon is worth fifty cents per pound ; 
sugar ditto. 

I presume less than half the four or five thonsand 
people now in this ravine have been here a week ; he 
who has been here three weeks is regarded as quite an 
old settler. The influx cannot fall short of five hundred 
per day, balanced by an efilux of about one hundred. 
Many of the latter go away convinced that Rocky 
Mountain gold-mining is one grand humbug. Some of 
them have prospected two or three weeks, eating up 
their provisions, wearing out their boots — and finding 
nothing. Others have worked for the more fortunate 
for one dollar per day and their board and lodging — 
certainly not high wages when the quality of the living 
is considered. And I feel certain that, while some — 
perhaps many — will realize their dreams of wealth here, 
a far greater number will expend their scanty means, 
tax their powers of endurance, and then leave, soured, 
heart-sick, spirit-broken. Twenty thousand people will 
have rushed into this ravine before the 1st of Septem- 
ber, while I do not see how half of them are to find 
profitable employment here. Unless, therefore, the area 
of the diggings shall meantime be greatly enlarged — 
of which there is no assurance — I cannot imagine how 
half the number are to subsist here, even up to that 
early setting in of winter which must cause a general 
paralysis of mining, and consequently of all other Rocky 
Mountain industry. With the gold just wrested from 



124 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

the earth still glittering in my ejes — and one company 
has taken out to-day, at a cost of not more than twenty- 
five dollars a lump (condensed by the use of quicksilver) 
which looks like a steel -yard -poise and is estimated as 
worth five hundred and ten dollars — I adhere to my 
long-settled conviction that, next to outright and indis- 
putable gambling, the hardest (though sometimes the 
quickest) way to obtain gold is to mine for it — that a 
good farmer or mechanic will usually make money 
faster — and of course immeasurably easier — by sticking 
to his own business than by deserting it for gold-digging 
— and that the man who, having failed in some otlier 
pursuit, calculates on retrieving his fortunes by gold- 
mining, makes a mistake which he will be likely to rue 
to the end of his da^^s. 

We had a famous gathering a few rods from this tent 
this evening. The estimate of safe men puts the num- 
ber present at fifteen hundred to two thousand. Though 
my name was made the excuse for it, brief and forcible 
addresses were made by several others, wherein mining, 
postal, and express facilities, the Pacific railroad, the 
proposed new Rocky Mountain state, temperance, gam- 
bling, etc., etc., were discussed with force and freedom. 
Such a gathering of men suddenly drawn hither from 
every section, and nearly every state, in a glen where 
the first axe was raised, the first tent pitched by white 
men, less than six weeks ago, should have inspired the 
dullest speaker with earnestness, if not with eloquence. 

Mining quickens almost every department of useful 
industry. Two coal-pits are burning close at hand. A 
blacksmith has set up his forge here, and is making a 



THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 125 

good thing of sharpening picks at fifty cents each. A 
volunteer post-office is just established, to which an 
express-office will soon attach itself. A provision store 
will soon follow ; then groceries ; then dry goods ; then 
a hotel, etc., nntil within ten years the tourist of the 
continent will be whirled up to these diggings over a 
longer but far easier road winding around the mountain- 
tops rather than passing over them, and will sip his 
chocolate and read his New York paper — not yet five 
days old — at the " Gregory House," in utter uncon- 
sciousness that this region was wrested from the elk and 
the mountain-sheep so recently as 1859. 

Denver, June 10, 1859, 
We left the diggings yesterday morning, and came 
down to the foot of the mountains, in spite of a driz- 
zling rain from noon to three or four o'clock, which at 
one time threatened a heavy shower. We made a poor 
shelter of a buffalo-skin and a rubber blanket, stretched 
across a fallen tree, and there waited half an hour ; 
but, finding the rain neither stopped nor grew violent, 
we saddled np and came on. Two accidents, which 
might have proved serious happened to members of our 
party — the first to Mr. Yillard, of Cincinnati, who, ri- 
ding at some distance from all others, was thrown by his 
mule's saddle slipping forward and turning under him, 
so that he fell heavily on his left arm, which was badly 
bruised, and thence was dragged a rod with his heel 
fast in the stirrup. His mule then, stopped ; but when 
I rode up behind him, I dared not approach him lest I 
should start her, and waited a moment for the friend 



126 THE KANSAS GOLD-DIGGINGS. 

who, having heard his call for help, was coming nj^ in 
front. Mr. Y. was released without further injury, but 
his arm is temporarily useless. The other casualty hap- 
pened to Mr. Kershaw, of Kew York, who, riding to 
my assistance at Clear Creek crossing at nightfall, was 
thrown by his mule's starting at the rush of a savage 
dog, and considerably injured, though he is nearly well 
to-day. It would have been to me a source of lasting 
sorrow had his fall resulted in more serious damage. 

When we reached Clear Creek on our way up three 
mornings since, though the current rushing from the 
mountains looked somewhat formidable, I charged it 
like a Zouave, and was greeted with three ringing 
shouts from the assembled Pike's Peakers, as I came 
up, gay and dripping, on the north shore. But now, 
though the water was but a few inches higher, the 
starch was so completely taken out of me by those 
three days' rough experience in the mountains, that I 
had neither strength nor heart for the passage. I felt 
that the least stumble of my mule over the round, slip- 
pery stones that fill the channel would fling me, and 
that I was unable to stand a moment in that rushing 
torrent. So, driving in my mule after the rest of the 
party, and seeing her reach the south bank safely, 
though with great difficulty — breaking a girth and 
spilling saddle, blanket, etc., into the' water — I betook 
myself to a spot, half a mile up stream, where the creek 
is split by islets into three channels, and where a rude 
foot-bridge of logs affords a dry-shod passage. Here I 
was met by my friend with his mule, and in a few 
minutes rode to our wagon, beside which we found 



THE KAl^SAS GOLD-DIGGINaS. 127 

snpper in ^n emigrant tent and lodging in several, and 
at four o'clock this morning harnessed np and drove 
into Denver — just three whole men out of a party of 
six, and all as weary and care-worn as need be, but all 
heartily gratified with our experience of three days in 
the Eocky Mountains. 



XIL 

THE PLAmS-THE MOUTVTAmS. 

Denver, June 15, 1859. 

1 KNOW far greater contrasts than that between the 
region which stretches hundreds of miles eastward from 
this spot toward the Missouri, and is known as The 
Plains, and that which overlooks us on the west, and, 
alike by its abrupt and sharp-ridged foot-hills seeming 
just at hand, and its glittering peaks of snow in the 
blue distance, vindicates its current designation. The 
Mountains. Let me elucidate : 

The plains are nearly destitute of human inhabitants. 
Aside from the butfalo-range — which has been steadily 
narrowing ever since Daniel Boone made his home in 
Kentucky, and is now hardly two hundred miles wide 
— it affords little sustenance and less shelter to man. 
Tlie antelope are seldom seen in herds — three is the 
highest number I observed together, while one, or at 
most two, is a more common spectacle. One to each 
mile square would be a large estimate for all that exist 
on the plains. Elk are scarcely seen at all, even where 
they have hardly ever been hunted or scared. Of deer, 
there are none, or next to none. For the plains are the 
favorite haunt of beasts and birds of prey — of the 
ravenous and fearless gray-wolf, of the cayote, the 
raven, and the hawk — the first hanging on the flanks of 



THE PLAINS THE MOUNTAINS. 129 

every great herd of buffalo, ready to waylay any foolisK 
calf or heedless heifer that may chance to stray for 
water or fresher grass beyond the protection of the 
hard-headed and chivalrous patriarchs, behind whose 
vigilant ranks there is comparative safety, and counting 
as their property any bull, even, whom wounds or dis- 
ease or decrepitude shall compel to fall behind in the 
perpetual march. For, while a stray buffalo, or two, or 
three, may linger in some lonely valley for months — for 
all winter, perhaps — the great herds which blacken the 
earth for miles in extent cannot afford to do so — they 
are so immensely numerous and find their safety in 
traveling so compactly that they must keep moving or 
starve. Avoiding, so far as possible, the wooded ravines 
of the slender water-courses, where experience has taught 
them to dread the lance-like arrow of the lurking Indian, 
they keep to the high '' divides," or only feed in the val- 
leys while they have these well covered by sentinel 
bulls to give warning of any foe's approach. Take away 
the buffalo, and the plains will be desolate far beyond 
their present desolation ; and I cannot but regard with 
sadness the inevitable and not distant fate of these noble 
and harmless brutes, already crowded into a breadth of 
country too narrow for them, and continually hunted, 
slaughtered, decimated, by the wolf, the Indian, the 
white man. They could have stood their ground against 
all in the absence of fire-arms, but "villainous salpeter" 
is too much for them. They are bound to perish ; I 
trust it may be oftener by sudden shot than by slow 
starvation. 

"Wood and water — the prime necessities of the ijrav. 

6* 



130 THE PLAINS — THE MOUNTAmS. 

eler as of the settler — are in adequate though not abun- 
dant supply for a hundred miles and more on this as 
they are throughout on the other side of the buffalo- 
range ; at length they gradually fail, and we are in a 
desert indeed. ]^o spring, no brook, for a distance of 
thirty to sixty miles (which would be stretched to more 
than a hnndred" if the few tracks called roads were not 
all run so as to secure water so far as possible) — rivers 
which have each had fifty to a hundred miles of its 
course gradually parched up by force of sun and wind, 
and its waters lost in their ow'n sands, so that the weary, 
dusty traveler vainly digs for hours in their dry beds in 
quest of drink for his thirsty cattle — rivers wdiich daYe 
not rise again till some friendly brook, having its source 
in some specially favored region, pours in its small but 
steady tribute, moistens the sands of the river-bed, and 
encourages its waters to rise to the surface again. In 
one case, an emigrant assures me that he dug down to 
the bed-rock of one of these rivers, yet found all dry 
sand. 

I know not that I can satisfactorily account, even to 
myself, for the destitution of wood which the Plains 
everywhere present, especially the western half of them. 
The poverty of the soil will not suffice, for these lands, 
when sufficiently moistened by rain or thawing snow- 
drifts, produce grass, and are not so sterile as the rocky 
hills, the pebbly knolls, of New England, which, never- 



* Since writing the above, I learn by a newlj arrived Pike's Peaker 
that the waterless stretch of desert is already a hundred miles long, and 
that every day's sun is extending it. 



THE PLAINS — THE MOUNTAINS. 131 

theless, produce wood rapidly and abundantly. On the 
Prairies of Illinois, Missouri, and eastern Kansas, the 
absence of wood is readily accounted for by the annual 
fires which, in autumn or spring, sweep over nearly 
every acre of dead grass, killing every tree-sprout that 
may have started up from scattered seeds or roots run- 
ning from the timber in the adjacent ravine beneath 
the matted grass. But here are thousands of acres too 
poorly grassed to be swept by the annual fires — on 
wdiich the thinly scattered reed-stalks and bunch-grass 
of last year shake dryly in the fierce night-winds — ^yet 
not a tree nor shrub relieves the tameness, the bareness, 
the desolation, of thousands after thousands of acres — 
not a twig, a scion, gives promise of trees that are to 
be. Fo]- a time, the narrow ravine or lowest intervale 
of the frequent streams were fairly timbered with cot- 
ton-wood j and low, sprawling elm, with a very little oak, 
or white-ash at long intervals intermixed ; but these 
grew gradually thinner and feebler until nothing but a 
few small cotton- woods remained, and these skulking 
behind bluffs, or in sheltered hollows at intervals of 
twenty to forty miles. Once in ten or twenty miles, a 
bunch of dwarf willows, perhaps two feet high, would 
be found cowering in some petty basin washed out by 
a current of water many years ago ; but these, like the 
cotton-woods, are happy if able to hold their own ; in- 
deed, I have seen much evidence that wood was more 
abundant on the Plains a hundred years ago than it 
now is. Dead cotton-woods, of generous proportions, 
lie in the channels of dry brooks on which no tree nor 
shrub now grows ; and, at one or more stations of the 



132 Till'] PLAINS THE MOUNTAINS. 

express-company, near the sink of tlie Republican, tliey 
find dead pine eight miles up a creek, where no living 
pine has been seen for generations. I judge that the 
desert is steadily enlarging its borders and at the same 
time intensifying its barrenness. 

The fierce drouth that usually prevails throughout 
the summer, doubtless contributes to this, but I think 
the violent and all but constant winds exert a still more 
disastrous jDotency. High winds are of frequent, all 
but daily, occurrence here, within a dozen miles of the 
great protecting bulwark of the Kocky Mountains ; 
while, from a point fifty miles eastward of this, they 
sweep over the Plains almost constantly, and at times 
with resistless fury. A driver stated on our way up, 
with every appearance of sincerity, that he had known 
instances of tires being blown off from wagon-wheels 
by the tornados of the Plains ; and, hard to swallow as 
that may seem, I have other and reliable assurance that, 
when the Missourians' camp, on the express-road, was 
swept by a hurricane, five or six weeks ago, so that, 
after the wreck, but three decent wagons could be 
patched up out of their six, as I have already narrated, 
one of the wheel-tires wa§ found not only blown off but 
nearly straightened out ! There is almost always a good 
breeze at mid-day and after, on the Plains ; but, should 
none be felt during the day, one is almost certain to 
spring up at sunset, and blow fiercely through the 
night. Thus, though hot days, or parts of days, are 
frequent on the Plains, I have experienced not even a 
moderately warm night. And thus trees are not; 
mainly because the winds uproot or dismember them, 



THE PLAINS THE MOUNTAINS. 133 

or SO rock and wrench tliem while young, that their 
roots cannot snck np even the little nourishment that 
this soil of baking clay resting on porous sand would 
fain afford them. Thus the few shoots that cleave the 
surface of the earth soon wither and die, and the broad 
landscape remains treeless, cheerless, forbidding. 

But the dearth of water and wood on the plains is 
paralleled by the poverty of shrubbery and herbage. I 
have not seen a strawberry-leaf — far from me be the 
presumption of looking for a berry ! — since I left the 
Missouri three weeks ago ; and the last blackberry 
bramble I observed grew on Chapman's Creek — at all 
events, the other side of the buffalo-range. A raspber- 
ry-cane has not blessed my sight these three weary 
weeks, nor aught else that might be hoped to bear an 
old-fashioned fruit, save the far-off blackberries afore- 
said, and two or three doubtful grape-vines on some 
creek a great way back. The prickly pear, very rare 
and very green,* is the only semblance of fruit I discov- 
ered on the plains ; a dwarfish cactus, with its leaves 
close to the ground ; the Spanish nettle — a sort of vege- 
table porcupine — a profusion of wild sage, wild worm- 
wood, and other such plants, worthless alike to man and 
beast, relieved by some well-gnawed grass in the richer 
valleys of winter water-courses (the flora usually very 
scanty and always coarse and poor) — such are my re- 
collections of the three hundred miles or so that separate 
the present buffalo-range from the creeks that carry 
snow-water to the Platte and the pines that herald our 
approach to the Rocky Mountains. 



134: THE PLAINS — THE MOUNTAnTS. 



THE KOCKT MOUNTAIN'S. 



And now all changes, but slowly, gradually. The 
cactus, the Spanish nettle, the prickly pear continue, 
even into and upon tlie mountains ; hut the pines, 
though stunted and at first scattered, give variety, soft- 
ness and beauty to the landscape, which becomes more 
rolling, with deeper and more frequent valleys, and 
water in nearly all of them ; the cotton- w^oods along the 
streams no longer skulk behind bluffs or hide in casual 
hollows ; you may build an honest camp-fire without 
fear of robbing an embryo county of its last stick of 
wood, and water your mules generously w^ithout drying 
np some long, pretentious river, and condemning those 
who come after you to weary, thirsty marches tlirough 
night and day. The cotton-woods, as you near the wind- 
quelling range of protecting heights, which rise, rank 
above rank, to the westward, (the more distant still 
white-robed with snow) grow large and stately — some 
of them sixty to seventy feet high, and at least three 
feet in diameter ; the unwooded soil ceases to be desert 
and becomes prairie once more ; but still this is in the 
main a sandy, thinly grassed region, which cannot com- 
pare w^ith the prairies of Illinois, of Iowa, or eastern 
Kansas. 

There seems to be as rich and deep soil in some of the 
creek-bottoms, especially those of the South Platte, as 
almost anywhere ; and yet I fear the husbandman is 
doomed to find even this belt of grassed and moderately 
rolling land, which stretches along the foot of the Moun- 
tains to a width of perhaps twenty miles, less tractable 



THE PLAINS THE MOU^^TAINS. 135 

and productive than fertile. It lies at sucli an elevation 
— from five thousand to six thousand feet above the 
ocean level — that, though its winters are said to be 
moderate, its springs cannot be early. There was a fall 
of a foot of snow in this region on the 26th of May, 
when ice formed to a quarter-inch thickness on the 
Plains ; and w^hen summer suddenly sets in, about the 
1st of June, there are hot suns by day, and cool, strong 
winds by night, with a surfeit of petty thunder squalls, 
but little or no rain. The gentle rain of last Thursday 
in the mountains fell, for a short time, in sheets just at 
their feet — say for a breadth of five miles — and there 
ceased. Hardly a drop fell within five miles west, or 
for any distance east of^this place, though the earth was 
soaked only ten miles further west. Hence, the enter- 
prizing few who have commenced farms and gardens 
near this point, tell me that their crops have made no 
progress for a week or two, and can make none till they 
have rain. I trust wheat and rye will do well here 
whenever they shall be allowed a fair chance; barley 
and oats, if sowed very early on deeplj^-plowed land, 
may do tolerably ; but corn, though it comes up well 
and looks rank at present, will hardly ripen before frost, 
even should it escape j)aralysis by drouth ; while pota- 
toes, peas, and most vegetables will probably require 
irrigation, or yield but sparingly. Yet, should the gold 
mines justif}^ their present promise, farming, in the 
right localities at the base of these mountains, even by 
the help of irrigation, will yield — to those who bring to 
it the requisite sagacity, knowledge, and capital — richer 
rewards than elsewhere on earth. Everything that can 



136 THE PLAINS — THE MOUNTAINS. 

be grown here will command treble or quadruple prices 
for years ; and lie who produces anything calculated to 
diversify and improve the gross, mountainous diet of 
salt pork, hot bread, beans, and coffee, now necessarily 
all but universal in this region, will be justly entitled 
to rank w^ith public benefactors. 

And the Rocky Mountains, with their grand, aro- 
matic forests, their grassy glades, their frequent springs, 
and dancing streams of the brightest, sweetest water, their 
pure, elastic atmosphere, and their unequalled game 
and fish, are destined to be a favorite resort and home 
of civilized man. I never visited a region where physi- 
cal life could be more surely prolonged or fully enjoyed. 
Thousands who rush hither for gold will rush away 
again disappointed and disgusted, as thousands have 
already done ; and yet the gold is in these mountains, 
and the right men will gradually unearth it. I shall 
be mistaken if two or three millions are not taken out 
this year, and some ten millions in 1860, though all the 
time there will be, as now, a stream of rash adventurers 
heading away from the diggings, declaring that there is 
no gold there, or next to none. So it was in California 
and in Australia ; so it must be here, where the obstacles 
to be overcome are greater, and the facilities for getting 
home decidedly better. All men are not fitted by nature 
for gold-dig gers ; yet thousands will not realize this until 
they have been convinced of it by sore experience. Any 
good phrenologist should have been able to tell half the 
people who rushed hither so madly during the last two 
months that, if these mountains had been half made of 
gold, they never would get any of it except by minding 



THE PLAINS THE MOUNTAINS. 137 

their own proper business, which was quite otlierthan min- 
ing. And still the long procession is crossing the Platte 
and Clear Creek, and pressing up the " Hill Difficulty " 
in mad pursuit of gold, whereof not one fifth will carry 
back to the states so much as they brought away. E'ew 
leads will doubtless be discovered, new veins be opened, 
new "diggings" or districts become the rage — for it 
were absurd to suppose that little ravine known as 
Gregory's, running to Clear Creek, the sole depository 
of gold worth working in all this region — and in time 
the Rocky Mountains will swarm with a hardy, indus- 
trious, energetic white population. 'Not gold alone, 
but lead, iron, and (I think) silver or cobalt, have al- 
ready been discovered here, and other valuable minerals, 
doubtless will be, as the mountains are more thoroughly 
explored — for as yet they have not been even run over. 
Those who are now intent on the immediate organiza- 
tion and admission of a new state may be too fast, yet 
I believe the Eocky Mountains, and their immediate 
vicinity — say between Fort Laramie on the north, and 
Taos on the south — will within three years have a white 
population of one hundred thousand, one half composed 
of men in the full vigor of their prime, separated by 
deserts and waste places from the present states — obliged 
to rely on their own resources in any emergency, and 
fully able to protect and govern themselves. Why not 
let them be a state so soon as reasonably may be. 

Mining is a pursuit akin to fishing and hunting, and, 
like them , enriches the few at the cost of the many. 
This region is doubtless foreordained to many changes 
of fortune ; to-day, giddy with tlie intoxication of sue- 



138 THE PLAINS THE MOUNTAINS. 

cess — to-morrow, in the valley of liiiuiiliation. One 
day, report will be made on the Missouri b}^ a party of 
disappointed gold-seekers, that the " Pike's Peak hum- 
bug" has exploded, and that every body is fleeing to the 
states who can possibly get away ; the next report will 
represent these diggings as yellow with gold. jN^either 
will be true, yet each in its turn will have a certain thin 
substratum of fact for its justification. Each season 
will see its thousands turn away disappointed, only to give 
place to other thousands, sanguine and eager as if none 
had ever failed. Yet I feel a strong conviction that 
each succeeding month's researches will enlarge the field 
of mining operations, and diminish the difiiculties and 
impediments which now stretch across the gold-seeker's 
path, and that, ten years hence, we shall be just begin- 
ning fairly to appreciate and secure the treasures now 
buried in the Rocky Mountains. 



XIII. 

THE GOLD m THE ROCKY MOUNTAmS. 

Denver, Jmie 20, 1859. 
For some ten years past, vague stories affirming or 
implying the existence of gold in our country's princi- 
pal chain of mountains, have from time to time reached 
the public ear; but tliey seemed to rest on very slight 
or insecure foundations, and attracted but limited and 
transient attention. An Indian's, or trapper's, or tra- 
der's bare assertion that, in traversing the narrov/ ra- 
vines and precipitous heights of our American Switzer- 
land he had picked up a piece of quartz lustrous with 
gold, or even a small nugget of the pure metal, was cal- 
culated to attract little attention, while California was 
unfolding her marvelous treasures, and while the fact 
stood forth clear and unquestioned, that not one pound 
of the precious dust from all the region watered by the 
Missouri's m.ountain tributaries had ever been known 
to swell the world's aggregate of the all-desired metal, 
and not one company, or individual even, was known 
to be seeking the yellow idol on this side of the back- 
bone of our continent. So far as I can learn, the first 
three parties ever organized to search for gold in all 
this Kocky Mountain region, were fitted out in the 
spring of 1858, from the Cherokee nation from Missouri, 
and from Kansas (Lawrence) respectively; and these, 
though they carried home or sent home large stories of 
the auriferous character of the country they "pros- 



140 THE GOLD TN THE KOCKY MOT^XTAINS. 

pected," took with them precious little gold. But their 
reports aroused a spirit of gold-seeking adventure in 
others, so that the ensuing (last) fall witnessed a rush of 
three or four hundred, mainly men of broken fortunes 
from the dead mushroom "cities" of Nebraska and Kan- 
sas, to the region watered by the South Platte and the 
more northerly sources of the Arkansas. For some rea- 
son, this point — the junction of Cherry Creek with the 
South Platte — became the focus of the gold-hunt ; here 
those who staid through the autumn and winter busied 
themselves in putting up log cabins, and writing home 
to their friends in tlie states, accounts of the richness of 
this region in gold — a metal which, except in very mi- 
nute quantities, they had seen but with the eye of faith. 
I doubt that three thousand dollars' worth of gold in 
every shape, had been taken out by the five or six hun- 
dred seekers who came to this region in hot pursuit of 
it, down to the first day of last month — May, 1859. I 
doubt it, not merely because I have never seen any reli- 
able accounts of that much gold being sent or received 
from here prior to that date, but because the gold does 
not exist where it had almost exclusively been sought 
down to that day. Cherry Creek, though its extreme 
sources are near Pike's Peak, is so headed off from the 
mountains by the South Platte, that I can liardly realize 
that it should bring down any gold at all ; and, at best, 
washing for gold the sands of either of these streams 
near their junction, seems to me much like washing the 
banks of the Amazon, in Maritime, Brazil, for the gold 
of the Andes. Yet nearly all the gold-liunting of this 
region, up to last month, had been done in the sands of 



THE GOLD IN THE KOCKY MOUXTAINS. 141 

these creeks, most of it miles distant from the mountains. 
Tliere is testimony that several dollars' worth of dust per 
day to the hand was thus washed out in certain happily 
chosen spots ; but such successes were transient ; and, 
despite all the glowing accounts set forth in letters to 
the states, it is clear that all the gold-w^ashing done 
throughout this region up to last month, had not paid 
an average of fifty cents per day's work ; while the cost 
of each man's subsistence, while thus employed, cannot 
have fallen short of a dollar per day. And the high 
waters of the streams preclude advantageous washing in 
the spring, even Avere gold far more abundant and endu- 
ring in their sands than it has yet been proved. 

Such was the actual state of things when the first 
flood of gold-seeking immigration began to pour in upon 
Auraria and Denver two months or more ago. Many 
of the seekers had left home with very crude ideas of 
gold-digging, impelled by glowing bulletins from wri- 
ters who confounded sanguine expectations with actual 
results, and at best spoke of any casual realization of 
'G.VG to ten dollars from a day's washing as though it 
were a usual and reliable reward of gold-seeking indus- 
try throughout this region. Many who came were 
doubtless already wearied and disgusted with the hard- 
ships of their tedious journey — with sleeping in wet 
blankets through storms of snow and hurricanes of hail, 
and urging hollow and weary cattle over im.mense, tree- 
less plains, on which the grass had hardly started. 
Coming in thus weather-beaten, chafed and soured, and 
finding but a handful of squalid adventurers living in 
the rudest log huts, barred out from the mountains by 



142 THE GOLD IN THE EOCKY MOUNIAINS. 

snow and ice, and precluded from washing the sands of 
the streams on the plains by high water, they jumped 
at once to the conclusion that the whole thing was a 
humbug, got uj) bj reckless speculators to promote sel- 
fish ends. They did not stop to reason,' much less to 
explore ; but, spurred by a laudable even if untimely 
longing to " see !Nancy and the children," they turned 
their cattle's heads eastward and rushed pell-mell down 
the Platte, sweeping back nearly all they met. I esti- 
mate the number who have started for " Pike's Peak " 
this season and turned back at not less than forty thou- 
sand, and their positive loss by the venture (in time, 
clothing and money) at not less than an average of fifty 
dollars eacli — or, in all, two millions of dollars. 

Meantime, a few of the pioneers of this region — main- 
ly experienced gold-miners from Georgia, California, 
and even Australia — were quietly proceeding to pros- 
pect the mountains, so fast as the disappearance of snow 
and ice would permit — and, before the snow was fairly 
off the hither ranges, while it still lay solid and deep on 
the central and higher chain, Mr. J.H. Gregory, a vet- 
eran Georgia gold-digger, had struck the lead on a 
branch of Yasquer's Fork (Clear Creek) some thirty 
miles west of this place by an air-line and forty-five by 
trail, which has since been the main focus and support 
of the gold-fever. Other leads have since been opened 
in the same ravine and its vicinity; Mr. Green Russell 
(another Georgian) is reported to be doing exceedingly 
well in his " gulch diggings " three miles south-west of 
Gregory's; we have various reports of good leads struck 
at sundry points ten to fifteen miles west, south and 



THE GOLD IN THE KOCKY MOUNTAINS. 1±3 

north of Gregory's ; and we have a further report that 
quartz of marvelous richness in gold has been found on 
the other side of the snowy range, some sixty mile^ west 
of Gregory's, and not far from the Middle Park, whence 
the water flows to Grand River, and thence, through the 
Colorado, into the Gulf of California. 

I indorse none of these reports as absolutel}^ true, 
though all but the last are probably so. Tens of thou- 
sands will vainly ransack these mountains for gold 
through weeks and months, and leave them at last 
ragged and despondent, as hundreds are leaving them 
now ; yet rich leads will continue to be struck, veins to 
be opened, sluices to be constructed, through years to 
come ; and I shall not be disappointed to find the dis- 
trict yet prospected a mere corner of the Eocky Moun- 
tain Gold Eegion, of which the center is very probably 
a hundred miles north or south of this point. It may be 
north of Laramie even. All that has yet been done 
toward the thorough development of the gold-producing 
capacity of the Rocky Mountains is very much what 
tickling an elephant's ear with a pin would be toward 
dissecting him. 

But will disemboweling these mountains in quest of 
gold pay f A very pregnant question. I answer — It 
will pay some ; it will fail to pay others. A few will 
be amply and suddenly enriched by finding "leads" 
and selling " claims ;" some by washing those " claims;" 
other some by supplying the mountains with the four 
apparent necessaries of mining life — whisky, cofi'ee, 
flour, and bacon ; others by robbing the miners of their 
hard earnings through the instrumentality of cards, 



144 THE GOLD IN THE KOOKY MOUNTAINS. 

roulette, and the ^'little joker;" but ten will come out 
here for gold for every one who carries back so much as 
he left home with, and thousands who hasten hither 
flushed with hope and ambition will lay down to tlieir 
long rest beneath the shadows of the mountains, wdth 
only the wind-sw^ept pines to sigh their requiem. 
Within this last w^eek, we have tidings of one young 
gold-seeker committing suicide, in a fit of insanity, at 
the foot of the mountains ; two more found in a ravine, 
long dead and partially devoured by wolves ; while five 
others, with their horse and dog, were overtaken, some 
days since, while on a prospecting tour not far from 
Gregory's, by one of those terrible fires which, kindled 
by the culpable recklessness of some camping party, 
finds ready aliment in the fallen pine leaves which 
carpet almost the entire mountain region, and are 
fanned to fury by the fierce gales wdiich sweep over the 
hill-tops, and thus were all burned to death, and so 
found and buried, two or three days since — their homes, 
their names, and all but their fearful fate, unknown to 
those who rendered them the last sad ofiices. Ah ! long 
will their families and friends vainly aw^ait and hope for 
the music of footsteps destined to be heard no more on 
earth ! Thus, Death seems to be more busy and relent- 
less on these broad, breezy plains, these healthful, invig- 
orating mountains, than even in the crowded city or 
the rural district thick-sown with venerable graves. 

It is my strong belief that gold is scarcely less abund- 
ant in the Eocky Mountains than in California, though 
it seems, for many reasons, far less accessible. It is 
first. Much further from the sea-board, or from any 



THE GOLD m THE KOCKT MOUNTAINS. 145 

navigable water or means of easy approach ; second. 
Belted by deserts and by regions on which little or no 
rain falls in summer, so that food, and almost every 
necessary of life, will here be permanently dearer than 
in California ; tliird. So elevated (six thousand feet and 
over above tide-water) that little can be done at mining 
for a full half of each year; and fourth. Most of the 
gold which has been broken down and washed out of 
the veins by water-courses has been so swept along and 
dispersed by the fierce mountain-torrents that very little 
of it can be profitably washed out ; hence, mining here 
must be mainly confined to the veins, and will thus in- 
volve blasting, raising by windlass, etc., etc., and so re- 
quire large investments of capital for its energetic and 
successful prosecution. While, therefore, I believe that 
these mountains will soon be yielding gold at the rate 
of many millions per annum, I say most emphatically 
to the poor men who want gold and are wilKng to work 
for it, — This is not the country for you ! Far better seek 
wealth further east through growing wheat, or corn, or 
cattle, or by any kind of manual labor, than come here to 
dig gold. One man may possibly acquire wealth- faster 
in this gold-lottery than in New England or Kansas ; 
but let one thousand poor men come hither to miiie, 
while the same number resolve to win a competence by 
eminent industry and frugality in the east, and the lat- 
ter will assuredly have more wealth at five years' end 
than the former — and will have acquired it with far less 
sacrifice of comfort, health and life. 

And here let me say, in closing up the subject, that I 
think the report made by Messrs. Eichardson, Yillard 
•7 



146 THE GOLD IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

and myself, of what we saw and learned at Gregory's 
Diggings, is fully justified by more recent results. For 
example : we gave the first four days' product of W. 
Defrees & Co. from Indiana (running one sluice) at $66, 
$80, $95, and $305 respectively — the four following 
days not returned. I have since obtained them ; and 
they range as follows : $257, $281, $203, $193--or $388 
more than tliose of the four days for which we gave the 
returns. This company then sold out their claim for 
seven thousand dollars, and on the eighth of June opened 
a sluice on another, which in four days ]3roduced as fol- 
lows: $31, $205, $151, $213. Another Indiana com- 
pany, miscalled Sopris, Henderson & Co., in our report, 
ran two sluices on the 9th and lOtli, realizing about 
$450 per day, and on the 11th liad three sluices in oper- 
ation for the first, and cleaned up $1,009 (really worth 
about $900) from the product of that day's labor of 
twelve men. Some scores are doing well, though few 
quite so well as this ; but of the thousands who are do- 
ing nothing — at least, realizing nothing — who shall re- 
port ? Some of these issue daily from the mountains, 
out of provisions, out of means, out of heart ; and, 
between this and snow-fall, thousands like them will 
come out, still more hungry, w^eary, forlorn, and take 
their way down the Platte as gaunt and disconsolate as 
men ever need be. But this, and much more, will not 
dissuade new thousands from rushing to take their 
places, so long as it is known that the Eocky Mountains 
contain gold. 

P. S. — A friend just in from the Mountains, who had 
a narrow escape from the flames, confirms our worst ru- 



THE GOLD IN THE KOCKY Z^IOUNTAINS. 147 

mors of disaster and death. He says not less than fif- 
teeri^ men have fallen victims to the conflagration, 
wliich is still raging, and threatens even the dense 
crowd of tents and cabins at Gregory's. My friend in- 
forms me that the fire began very near where we camped 
during my first weary night in the Mountains, and 
would seem to have been purposely set by reckless sim- 
pletons curious to see the woods in a blaze ! He thinks 
the victims were generally, if not uniformly, smothered 
before the fire reached them — the dense, pitchy smoke 
at once shrouding the vision and obstructing respira- 
tion. He says the flames swept through the pines and 
above their tops to a height of two hundred feet, with 
a roar and a rush appalling even to look on. He was 
obliged to run his mule at her utmost speed for two or 
three miles, in order to eflfect his escape. If this drouth 
continues — as it is likely to do for months —the moun 
tains this side of the snowy range will be nearlj^ burned 
over for at least fifty miles north and south of the Greg- 
ory trail, driving out all that is left of game, killing 
much of the timber, and rendering tlie country every 
way more inhospitable — a most superfluous proceeding. 
I hear of still further discoveries further up in the 
Mountains — some of them gulch or water-course dig- 
gings, which are said to pay very well. They have 
just begun to work the sand of Clear Creek at the 
point where it issues from the mountains. Another 
friend just from Gregory's, says he fears the victims of 
the fires now raging in that quarter will number one 

* Another friend just arrived says certainly seventeen. 



148 THE GOLD IN TETE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

hundred. The limbs of the green pines are burned off 
close to the trnnks, and the columns of roaring flame 
seem to fill the sky. The Gregory settlement was in 
some danger when my informants left it yesterday. 



XIY. 

«L0! THE POOR INDIAN!" 

Denver, June 16, 1 859, 
I HAVE been passing, meeting, observing and trying 
to converse with Indians almost ever since I crossed the 
Missouri. Eastern Kansas is chequered with their 
reservations — Delaware, Kaw, Ottawa, Osage, Hicka- 
poo, Potawatamie and others — while the bufi'alo-range, 
and all this side belong to, and are parceled among the 
Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, and the Apaches — or per- 
haps among the two former only, as Indian boundaries 
are not very well defined. At all events, we have met 
or passed bands of these three tribes, with occasional 
visitors from the Sioux on the north, and the Caman- 
ches on the south — all these tribes having for the pres- 
ent a good understanding. The Utes, who inhabit the 
mountains, and are stronger and braver than any one 
of the three tribes first named, though hardly a match 
for them all, are at war w4th them ; the Aarapaho chief, 
Left-Hand, assures me that his people were always at 
war with the Utes — at least, he has no recollection, no 
tradition, of a time when they were at peace. Some 
two or three hundred lodges of Arapahoes are encamped 
in and about this log city, calculating that the presence 
of the whites will afford some protection to their wives 
and children against a Ute onslaught while the "braves" 
are off on any of their fighting — that is, stealing — expe- 



150 " LO, THE POOR INl)IAx\ !" 

ditions. An equal or larger body of Utes are camped 
in the mountains, some forty or fifty miles west, and 
the Arapaho warriors recently returned in triumph from 
a war party, on which they managed to steal about a 
hundred horses from the tJtes, but were obliged to kill 
most of them in their rapid flight, so that they only 
brought home forty more than they took away. They 
are going out again in a day or two, and have been for 
some days practising secret incantations and public ob- 
servances with reference thereto. Last midnight, they 
were to have had a grand w^ar-dance, and to have left 
on the war-path to-day ; but their men, sent out after 
their horses, reported that they saw three Utes on the 
plain, which was regarded as premonitory of an attack, 
and the "braves" stood to their arms all night, and 
were very anxious for white aid in case of a Ute foray 
on their lodges here in Denver. Such an attack seems 
very improbable, and I presume the three Utes who 
caused all this uproar were simply scouts or spies, on 
the watch for just such marauding surprise-parties as 
our Arapaho neighbors are constantly meditating. I 
do not see why they need take even this trouble. There 
are points on the mountain range west of this city, 
where a watchman with a sharp eye and a good glass 
would command tlie entire plain, for fifty miles north, 
south, and east of him, and might hence give intelli- 
gence of any Arapaho raid at least a day before a brave 
entered the mountains. For, though it is true that In- 
dians on tire war-path travel or ride mainly by night, 
I find that the Arapahoes do this only after they have 
entered on wliat they consider disputed, or dangerous 



nt!" 



151 



ground — that they start from their lodges in open day, 
and only advance under cover of darkness after they 
are within the shadows of the mountains. Hence, the 
Utes, who are confessedly the stronger, might ambush 
and destroy any Arapaho force that should venture into 
their Eocky Mountain recesses, by the help of a good 
spy-glass, and a little White forecast. 

But the Indians are children. Their arts, wars, trea- 
ties, alliances, habitations, crafts, properties, commerce, 
comforts, all belong to the very lowest and rudest ages 
of human existence. Some few of the chiefs have a 
narrow and short-sighted shrewdness, and very rarely 
in their history, a really great man, like Pontiac or Te- 
cumseh, has arisen among them ; but this does not shake 
the general truth that they are utterly incompetent to 
cope in any way with the European or Caucasian race. 
Any band of schoolboys, from ten to fifteen years of 
age, are quite as capable of ruling their appetites, devis- 
ing and upholding a public policy, constituting and 
conducting a state or community, as an average Indian 
tribe. And, unless they shall be treated as a truly 
Christian community w^ould treat a band of orphan 
children providentially thrown on its hands, the abo- 
rigines of this country will be practically extinct within 
the next fifty years. 

I have learned to appreciate better than hitherto, and 
to make more allowance for, the dislike, aversion, con- 
tempt, wherewith Indians are usually regarded by their 
white neighbors, and have been since the days of the 
Puritans. It needs but little familiaritj^ with the actual, 
palpable aborigines to convince any one that the poetic 



152 "lo, the voor Indian!*' 

Indian — the Indian of Cooper and Longfellow — is (^nly 
visible to the poet's eye. To the prosaic observer, the 
average Indian of the woods and prairies is a being who 
does little credit to human nature — a slave of appetite 
and sloth, never emancipated from the tyranny of one 
animal passion save by the more ravenous demands of 
another. As I passed over those magnificent bottoms 
of the Kansas which form the reservations of the Dela- 
wares, Potawatamies, etc., constituting the very best 
corn-lands on earth, and saw their owners sitting around 
the doors of their lodges at the height of the planting 
season and in as good, bright planting weather as sun 
and soil ever made, I could not help saying, "These 
people must die out — there is no help for them. God 
has given this earth to those who will subdue and culti- 
vate it, and it is vain to struo^arle as^ainst His ricrhteous 
decree." And I yesterday tried my powers of per- 
suasion on Left-PIand — the only Arapaho chief who 
talks English — in favor of an Arapaho tribal farm — say 
of two hundred acres for a besrinninff — to be broken and 
fenced by the common efforts of the tribe, and a patch 
therein allotted to each head of a family who would 
agree to plant and till it — I apprehend to very little 
purpose. For Left-IIand, though shrewd in his way, is 
an Indian, and every whit as conservative as Boston's 
Beacon street or our Fifth Avenue. He knows that 
there is a certain way in which his people have lived 
from time immemorial, and in which they are content 
still to live, knowing and seeking no better. He may 
or may not have heard that it is the common lot of 
prophets to be stoned and of reformers to be crucified ; 



" LO, THE POOK INDIAN !" 153 

but he probably comprehends that squaws cannot fence 
and plow, and that "braves" are dismclined to any 
such steady, monotonous exercise of their muscles. I 
believe there is no essential difference in this respect 
between "braves" of the red and those of the white 
race, since even our country's bold defenders have not 
been accustomed to manifest their intrepidity in the 
corn-fields along their line of march, save in the season 
of roasting-ears ; and the verb "to soldier" has acquired, 
throughout Christendom in all its moods and tenses, a 
significance beyond the need of a glossary. Briefly, the 
" brave," whether civilized or savage, is not a worker, a 
producer ; and where the men are all " braves," wfith a 
war always on hand, the prospect for productive indus- 
try is gloomy indeed. If, then, the hope of Indian ren- 
ovation rested mainly on the men, it w^ould be slender 
enough. There is little probability that the present 
generation of " braves " can be weaned from the tradi- 
tions and the habits in which they find a certain per- 
sonal consequence and immunity from daily toil, which 
stand them instead of intelligence and comfort. Squalid 
and conceited, proud and worthless, lazy and lousy, they 
will strut out or drink out their miserable existence, and 
at length afford the world a sensible relief by dying out 
of it. 

But it is otherwise with the women. Degraded and 
filthy as they are, beyond description or belief, they 
bear the germ of renovation for their race, in that they 
are neither too proud nor too indolent to labor. The 
squaw accepts work as her destiny from childhood. In 

her father's lodge, as in that w^herein she comes in turn 

7* 



154 "lo, the pook Indian!" 

to hold a fifth or sixth interest in a husband — (for all 
Indians are poljgamists in theory, and all who have 
means or energy become such in practice) — she compre- 
hends and dutifully accepts drudgery as her " peculiar 
institution." She pitches and strikes the tent, carries it 
from one encampment to another, gathers and chops the 
wood, and not only dresses and cooks the game which 
forms the family's food (when they have any) but goes 
into the woods and backs it home, when her lord returns 
with the tidings that he has killed something. Tanning 
or dressing hides, making tents, clothing, moccasins, etc., 
all devolve on her. Under such a dispensation, it is not 
difficult to believe that she often willingly accepts a 
rival in the affections of her sullen master, as promising a 
mitigation rather than an aggravation of the hardships 
of her lot. 

And yet even the Indian women are idle half their 
time, from sheer want of any thing to do. They will 
fetch water for their white neighbors, or do any thing 
else whereby a piece of bread may be honestly earned ; 
and they would do ten times more than they do, if they 
could find work and be reasonably sure of even a mea- 
ger reward for it. 

I urge, therefore, that in future eflForts to improve the 
condition of the Indians, the women be specially re- 
garded and appealed to. A conscientious, humane, 
capable christian trader, with a wife thoroughly skilled 
in household manufactures and handicraft, each speak- 
ing the language of the tribe with whom they take up 
their residence, can do more good than a dozen average 
missionaries. Let them keep and sell whatever articles 



"lo, the poor dstdian!'' 155 

are adapted to the Indians' needs and means, and let 
them constitute and maintain an Industrial School, in 
which the Indian women and children shall be fi-eely 
taught how to make neatly and expeditiously not only 
moccasins, but straw hats, bonnets, and (in time) a hun- 
dred other articles combining taste with utility. Let a 
farm and garden be started so soon as may be, and veg- 
etables, grain, fruits given therefrom in exchange for 
Indian labor therein, at all times when such labor can 
be made available. Of course, the school, though pri- 
marily industrial, should impart intellectual and reli- 
gious instruction also, wisely adapted in character and 
season to the needs of the pupils, and to their percep- 
tion of those needs. Such an enterprise, combining 
trade with instruction, thrift with philanthropy, would 
gradually mould a generation after its own spirit — 
would teach them to value the blessings of civilization 
before imposing on them its seeming burdens ; and 
would, in the course of twenty years, silently transform 
an indolent savage tribe into a civilized christian com- 
munity. There may be shorter modes of eflecting this 
transformation, but I think none surer. 

Doubtless, such an enterprise demands rare qualities 
in its head — that of patience prominent among them. 
The vagrancy of the Indians would prove as great an 
obstacle to its success as their paltry but interminable 
wars. Yery often, in the outset, the apostle of industry 
and civilization would find himself deserted by all his 
pupils, lured away by the hope of success elsewhere in 
marauding or hunting. But let him, having first delib- 
erately chosen his location, simply persevere, and they 



156 ''Lo, THE POOR Indian!" 

will soon come round again, glad enough to find food 
that may be had even for solid work ; for all I can learn 
impels me to believe that hunger is the normal state of 
the Indian, diversified by transient interludes of glut- 
tony. Meat is almost his only food ; and this, though 
plentiful at seasons, is at others scarcely obtainable in 
the smallest quantities, or dried to the toughness of lea- 
ther. The Indian likes bread as well as the white; he 
must be taught to prefer the toil of producing it to the 
privation of lacking it. This point gained, he will easi- 
ly be led to seek shelter, clothing, and all the comforts 
of civilized life, at their inevitable cost ; and thus his 
temporal salvation will be assured. Otherwise, his ex- 
termination is inexorably certain, and cannot long be 
postponed. 



XY. 

WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

DEi^'TER, June 21, 1859. 

I K^ow it is not quite correct to speak of this region 
as "Western," seeing that it is in fact the center of 
I^orth America and very close to its backbone. Still, 
as the terms " Eastern " and " Western " are conven- 
tional and relative — Castine being " Western " to a Blue- 
nose and Carson Yallej, " Eastern " to a Californian — I 
take the responsibility of grouping certain characters I 
have noted on the plains and in or about the mountains 
as "Western," begging that most respectable region 
•which lies east of the buffalo-range — also that portion 
which lies west of the Colorado — to excuse the liberty. 

The first circumstance that strikes a stranger travers- 
ing this wild country is the vagrant instincts and habits 
of the great majority of its denizens — perhaps I should 
say, of the American people generally, as exhibited here. 
Among any ten whom you successively meet, thei'e will 
be natives of E'ew England, ISTew York, Pennsylvania, 
Yirginia or Georgia, Ohio or Indiana, Kentucky or 
Missouri, France, Germany, and perhaps Ireland. But, 
worse than this ; you cannot enter a circle of a dozen 
persons of whom at least three will not have spent some 
years in California, two or three have made claims and 
built cabins in Kansas or Nebraska, and at least one 
spent a year or so in Texas. Boston, [N'ew York, Phila- 



158 WESTEEN CHAEACTEKS. 

delpliia, 'New Orleans, St. Louis, Cincinnati, have all 
contributed tlieir quota toward peopling the new gold 
region. The next man you meet driving an ox-team, 
and white as a miller with dust, is probably an ex-bank- 
er or doctor, a broken merchant or manufacturer from 
the old states, who has scraped together the candle-ends 
charitably or contemptuously allowed him by his credi- 
tors on settlement, and risked them on a last desperate 
cast of the dice by coming hither. Ex-editors, ex-prin- 
ters, ex-clerks, ex-steamboat men, are here in abundance 
— all on the keen hunt for the gold which only a few 
will secure. One of the stations at which we slept on 
our way up — a rough tent with a cheering hope (since 
blasted) of a log house in the near future — was kept by 
an ex-lawyer of Cincinnati and his wife, an ex-actress 
from our New York Bowery — she being cook. Omni- 
bus-drivers from Broadway repeatedly handled the rib- 
bons ; ex-border ruffians fi'om civilized Kansas — some 
of them of unblessed memory — were encountered on 
our way, at intervals none too long. All these, blended 
with veteran Mountain men, Indians of all grades from 
the tamest to the wildest, half-breeds, French trappers 
and voyageurs (who have generally two or three Indian 
wives apiece) and an occasional negro, compose a med- 
ley such as hardly another region can parallel. Hono- 
lulu, or some other port of the South Sea Islands, could 
probably match it most nearly. 

The old mountaineers form a caste by themselves, and 
they prize the distinction. Some of theni are French- 
men, or Franco-Americans, who have been trapping or 
trading in and around these mountains for a quarter of 



WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 169 

a century, have wives and children here, and here 
expect to live and die. Some of these have accumu- 
lated property and cash to the value of two hundred 
thousand dollars, which amount will not easily be re- 
duced, as they are frugal in everything (liquor some- 
times excepted), spend but a pittance on the clothing of 
their families, trust little, keep small stocks of goods, 
and sell at large profits. Others came years ago from 
the states, some of them on account each of a '' difficul- 
ty " wherein they severally killed or savagely maimed 
their respective antagonists under circumstances on 
which the law refuses to look leniently ; whence their 
pilgrimage to and prolonged sojourn here, despite enti- 
cing placards offering five hundred dollars or perhaps one 
thousand dollars for their safe return to the places that 
knew them once, but shall know them no more. This 
class is not numerous, but is more influential than it 
should be in giving tone to the society of which its 
members form a part. Prone to deep drinking, soured 
in temper, always armed, bristling at a word, ready 
with the rifle, revolver or bowie-knife, they give law 
and set fashions which, in a country where the regular 
administration of justice is yet a matter of prophecy, it 
seems difficult to overrule or disregard. I apprehend 
that there have been, during my two weeks sojourn, 
more brawls, more fights, more pistol-shots with crim- 
inal intent in this log city of one hundred and fifty 
dwellings, not three-fourths completed nor two-thirds 
inhabited, nor one-third fit to be, than in any community 
of no greater numbers on earth. This will be changed 
in time — I trust within a year, for the empty houses are 



160 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

steadily finding tenants from the two streams of emigra- 
tion rolling in daily up the Platte on the one hand, 
down Cherry Creek on the other, including some scores 
of women and children, who generally stop here, as all 
of them should ; for life in the mountains is yet horribly 
rough. Public religious worship, a regular mail and 
other civilizing influences, are being established ; there 
is a gleam of hope that the Arapahoes — who have made 
the last two or three nights indescribably hideous by 
their infernal war-whoops, songs and dances — will at 
last clear out on the foray against the Utes they have so 
long threatened, diminishing largely the aggregate of 
drunkenness and riot, and justifying expectations of 
comparative peace. So let me close up my jottings from 
this point — which circumstances beyond my control 
have rendered so voUiminous — with a rough ambrotype 
of 

LIFE IN DENVER. 

The rival cities of Denver and Auraria front on each 
other from either bank of Cherry Creek, just before it is 
lost in the South Platte. The Platte has its sources in 
and around the South Park of the Rocky Mountains, a 
hundred miles south-west of this point; but Cherry 
Creek is headed off from them by that river, and, wind- 
ing its northward course of forty or fifty miles over the 
plains, with its sources barely touching the Mountains, 
is a capricious stream, running quite smartly w^hen we 
came here, but whose broad and thirsty sands have 
since drank it all up at this point, leaving the log foot- 
bridges which connect the two cities as useless as an 



WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 161 

ice-hoiise in ITovember. The Platte, aided hj the melt- 
ing of the snows on the higher mountains, runs nearly 
full-banked, though the constant succession of hot suns 
and dry winds begins to tell upon it ; while Clear Creek 
(properly Yasquer's Fork), which issues directly from 
the Mountains just above its crossing on the way to the 
Gregory diggings, is nearly at its highest, and will so 

remain till the inner mountains are mainlv denuded of 

t/ 

their snowy mantles. But, within a few days, a foot- 
bridge has been completed over the Platte, virtually 
abolishing the ferry and saving considerable time and 
money to gold-seekers and travelers ; while another over 
Clear Creek precludes not only delay but danger — seve- 
ral wagons having been wrecked and two or three men 
all but drowned in attempts to ford its rapid, rocky 
current. Thus the ways of the adventurous grow daily 
smoother ; and they who visit this region ten years 
hence, will regard as idle tales the stories of privation, 
impediment, and " hair-breadth 'scapes " which are told, 
or might be, by the gold-seekers of 1859. 

Of these rival cities, Auraria is by far the more vener- 
able — some of its structures being, I think, fully a year 
old, if not more. Denver, on the other hand, can boast 
of no antiquity beyond September or October last. In 
the architecture of the two cities there is, notwithstand- 
ing, a striking similarity — cotton-wood logs, cut from the 
adjacent bottom of the Platte, roughly hewed on the 
upper and under sides, and chinked with billets of split 
cotton-wood on the inner, and with mud on the outer 
side, forming tlie walls of nearly or quite every edifice 
wliich adorns either city. Across the center of the in- 



162 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

terior, from shorter wall to wall, stretches a sturdy 
ridge-pole, usually in a state of nature, from which 
"shocks," or split saplings of cotton-wood, their split 
sides down, incline gently to the transverse or longer 
sides ; on these (in the more finished structures) a coat- 
ing of earth is laid ; and, with a chimney of mud-daubed 
sticks in one corner, a door nearly opposite, and a hole 
beside it representing or prefiguring a window, the 
edifice is complete. Of course, many have no earth on 
their covering of shooks, and so are liable to gentle 
inundation in the rainy season; but, though we have 
had thunder and lightning almost daily, with a brisk 
gale in most instances, there has been no rain worth 
naming such here for weeks, and the unchiuked, barely 
shook-covered houses, through whose sides and roofs 
you may see the stars as you lie awake nights, are 
decidedly the cooler and airier. There is a new hotel 
nearly finished in Auraria, which has a second story 
(but no first story) fioor ; beside this, mine eyes have 
never yet been blessed with the sight of any floor what- 
ever in either Denver or Auraria. The last time I slept 
or ate with a floor under me (our wagon-box and mother 
earth excepted) was at Junction-City, nearly four weeks 
ago. The ''Denver House," which is the Astor House 
of the gold region, has walls of logs, a floor of earth, 
with windows and roof of rather flimsy cotton-sheeting; 
while every guest is allowed as good a bed as his 
blankets will make. The charges are no higher than 
at the Astor and other first-class hotels, except for 
liquor — twenty-five cents a drink for dubious whisky, 
colored and nicknamed to suit the taste of customers — 



WESTERN CnAEACTEPwS. 163 

beins: the rei2^ular rate tlironschont this re2;ioii. I had 
the honor to be shaved there by a nephew (so he assured 
me) of Mnrat, Bonaparte's king of Naples — the honor 
and the shave together costing but a paltry dollar. Still, 
a few days of such luxury surfeited me, mainly because 
the main or drinking-room was also occupied by several 
blacklegs as a gambling-hall, and their incessant clamor 
of "Who'll go me twenty? The ace of hearts is the 
winnino^ card. Whoever turns the ace of hearts wins 
the twenty dollars," etc. etc., persisted in at all hours 
up to midnight, became at length a nuisance, from 
which I craved deliverance at any price. Then the 
visitors of that drinking and gambling-room had a care- 
less way, when drunk, of firing revolvers, sometimes at 
each other, at other times quite miscellaneously, which 
struck me as inconvenient for a quiet guest with only 
a leg- and a half, hence in poor condition for dodging 
bullets. So I left. 

" How do you live in Denver ?" I inquired of a 'New 
York friend some weeks domiciled here, in whose com- 
pany I visited the mines. " O, I've jumped a cabin," 
was his cool, matter-of-course reply. As jumping a 
cabin was rather beyond my experience, I inquired 
further, and learned that, finding an uninhabited cabin 
that suited liim, he had quietly entered and spread his 
blankets, eating at home or abroad as opportunity 
might suggest. I found, on further inquiry, that at 
least one-third of the habitations in Denver and Auraria 
were desohite when we came here (they have been 
gradually filling up since), some of the owners having 
gone into the mountains, digging or prospecting, and 



164: WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 

taken their limited supply of household goods along 
with them ; while others, discouraged by the poor show 
of mining six weeks ago, when even the nearer moun- 
tains were still covered with snow and ice, rushed pell- 
mell down the Platte with the wild reflux of the spring 
emigration, abandoning all but what they could carry 
away. It is said that lots and cabins together sold for 
twenty-five dollars — so long as there were purchasers ; 
but these soon failing, they were left behind like camp- 
fires in the morning, and have since been at the service 
of all comers. 

So, in company with a journalizing friend, I, too, 
have "jumped a cabin," and have kept to it quite 
closely, under a doctor's care, for the last week or ten 
days. It is about ten feet square, and eight feet high, 
rather too well chinked for summer, considering that it 
lacks a window, but must be a capital house for this 
country in winter. I board with the nearest neighbor; 
and it is not my landlady's fault that the edible re- 
sources of Denver are decidedly limited. But even 
these are improving. To the bread, bacon, and beans, 
which formed the staple of every meal a short time ago, 
there have been several recent additions ; milk, which 
was last week twenty -five cents per quart, is now down 
to ten, and I hear a rumor that eggs, owing to a recent 
increase in the number of hens, within Rvq hundred 
miles, from four or five to twelve or fifteen, are about 
to fall from a dollar a dozen to fifty cents per dozen. 
On every side, I note signs of progress — improvement — 
manifest destiny : — there was a man about the city yes- 
terday with lettuce to sell — and I am credibly assured 



WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 165 

that there will be green peas next month — actually 
peas ! — provided it should rain soakinglj meantime — 
whereof a hazy, lowering sky would seem just now to 
afford some hope. (P. S. The hope has vanished.) 
But I — already sadly behind, and nearly able to travel 
again — must turn my back on this promise of luxuries, 
and take the road to Laramie to-day, or at furthest to- 
morrow. 



XYI. 

FROM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 

Port Laramie, June 21, 1859. 
I LEFT Denver at 3, p. m.. on Tuesday, 21st inst. There 
are two roads thence to this point : that usually pre^ 
ferred follows down the east fork of the South Platte 
some forty miles, crossing that river near St. Yrain's 
(deserted) Fort, thus avoiding several rapid and difficult 
creeks, and crossing Cache-la-Poudre near its mouth, 
where, like nearly all these streams, it is broader and 
shallower than where it issues from the Eocky Moun- 
tains. My guide had expected to take this route till 
the last moment, when he learned that the South Platte 
was entirely too high to be forded near St. Vrain's Fort, 
or any where else, and tliat there was now no ferry- 
boat for two hundred miles below Denver ; hence he had 
no choice but to take the upper or mountain-route. So, 
we crossed the Platte directly at Denver, and Clear 
Creek some three or four miles below the road to Greg- 
ory's Diggings, by a bad, difficult ford, embellished by 
some half-dozen deep, ugly "sloughs" in the bottom on 
either side, the creek being so high that the bottom was 
flooded in part, and very miry. This high water cut 
us off from a purposed call on a hunter in the bottom, 
of whom we had expected to obtain fresh meat for our 
journey. "VYe pushed on ten miles further, and camped 
for the night opposite " Boulder City," a log hamlet of 



FKOM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 167 

some thirty habitations, covering the entrance to ''Boul- 
der Diggings," twelve miles westward in the mountains. 
Here we found four wagons, two of them with horse- 
teams, each conveying the luggage of four or five men 
who, having taken a look at this gold-region, had de- 
cided to pnsh on for California, most of them, I believe, 
througli what is known as the " Cherokee Trail," which 
forms a part of the shortest practicable route from Den- 
ver to Salt Lake. I was strongly tempted at Denver to 
join one of these parties, and go through this pass — had 
I stood firmly on both feet, I think I should have done 
it, saving distance, though losing time. We all camped 
for the night beside a small brook, the rippling of 
w^hose waters over its pebbly bed fell soothingly on the 
drowsy ear. I had the wagon to myself for a bed- 
chamber, while my three companions spread their buf- 
falo-skin and blankets on the grass, and had the vault 
of heaven for their ceiling. Tlie night was cool and 
breezy ; our mules were picketed on the grass at a 
short distance ; our supper of fried pork and pilot-bread 
had not surfeited us ; and we slept quietly till the first 
dawn of day, when our mules were quickly harnessed, 
and we left our fellow-campers still torpid, pushing on 
fifteen miles, and crossing two deep, swift, steep-banked 
creeks (St. Train's Fork, and a branch of Thompson's 
Creek) before stopping for feed and breakfast. After 
two hours' rest, we harnessed up, and made twenty 
miles more before stopping, at the crossing of the other 
fork of Thompson's Creek for dinner. Here we found 
a caravan moving from Missouri to California, which 
reminded me of the days of Abraham and Lot. It 



168 FROM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 

comprised six or seven heavy wagons, mainly drawn by 
oxen, with a light traveling carriage and pair of horses 
conveying the patriarch's family, some two or three 
hundred head of cows, steers, and young cattle, with 
three or four young men on horseback driving and 
keeping the herd. Girls were milking, women cooking 
or washing, children playing — in short, here was the 
material for a very fair settlement, or quite an imposing 
Kansas city. While we were snoozing, they hitched 
up and moved on before us, but we very soon overtook 
and passed them. There are scores of such caravans 
now on the various roads to California, many of which 
will see very hard times ere they reach Carson Y alley, 
and some still harder before they get fairly across the 
Sierra Nevada. Many of them are behind time; the 
feed — for most of the way scanty at best — has been de- 
voured by the cattle ahead of them, and the drouth for- 
bids the growth of more until September, in which 
month snow begins to fall heavily on the Sierra 'Ne- 
vada. And it will not tend to rouse their flagging 
spirits to meet — as I am well assured they must — similar 
caravans of people, who, having tried California to 
their full satisfaction, are now moving back to Missouri 
again. Was there ever another such vagrant, restless, 
discontented people, pretending to be civilized, as ours ! 
Pushing on steadily over a reasonably level country, 
though crossed by many deep and steep-banked dry 
gullies, and perhaps one petty living stream, w^e stood 
at 5 p. M. on the south bank of Cache-la-Poudre, seventy 
miles from Denver, and by far the most formidable 
stream between the South Platte and the Laramie. Our 



*^FKOM DENVER TO LAEAIIIE. 169 

conductor was as brave as mountaineer need be, but lie 
was wary as well, and had seen so many people drowned 
in fording such streams, especially the Green River 
branch of the Colorado, on which he sj^ent a year or 
two, that he chose to feel his way carefully. So he 
waited and observed for an hour or more, meantime 
sending word to an old French mountaineer friend from 
Utah, who has pitched his tent here, that his help was 
wanted. There had been a ferry-boat at this crossing 
till two nights before, when it went down stream, and 
had not since been heard of. A horseman we met some 
miles below, assured us that there was no crossing ; but 
this we found a mistake — two men mounted on strong 
horses crossing safely before our eyes, and two heavy- 
laden ox-wagons succeeding them in doing the same, 
save that one of them stuck in the stream, and the oxen 
had to be taken off and driven out, being unable to pull 
it while themselves were half buried in the swift current. 
But these crossings were made from the other side, where 
the entrance was better and the current rather favored 
the passage ; the ox-wagons were held to the bottom by 
the weight of their loads, while our " ambulance" was 
light, and likely to be swept down stream. At length 
our French friend appeared, mounted on a powerful 
horse, with an Indian attendant on another such. He 
advised us to stay where we were for the night, prom- 
ising to come in the morning with a heavy ox-team and 
help us over. As this, however, involved a loss of at 
least ten miles on our next day's drive, our conductor 
resolved to make an attempt now. So the Frenchman on 
his strong horse took one of our lead-mules by the halter 



170 FROM DENVEK TO LAKAMIE. 

and the Indian took the other, and we went in, barely 
escaping an upset from going down the steep bank ob- 
liqiielj, and thus throwing one side of our wagon much 
above the other ; but we righted in a moment and went 
through — the water being at least three feet deep for 
about a hundred yards, the bottom broken by the bowl- 
ders, and the current very strong. We camped so soon 
as fairly over, lit a fire, and, having obtained a quarter 
of antelope from our French friend, proceeded to pre- 
pare and discuss a most satisfactory supper. Table, of 
course, there was none, and we had unluckily lost our 
fork ; but we had still two knives, a sufficiency of tin- 
cups and plates, with an abundance of pork and pilot- 
bread, and an old bag for table-cloth which had evi- 
dently seen hard service, and had gathered more dirt 
and blood in the course of it than a table-cloth actually 
needs. But the antelope ham was fresh, fat, and ten- 
der; and it must have weighed less by three pounds 
when that supper was ended than when its preparation 
was commenced. 

By the way, there was a discussion at supper between 
my three companions — all mountaineers of ripe expe- 
rience — as to the relative merits of certain meats, of 
which I give the substance for the benefit of future trav- 
elers through this wild region, buflalo I found to be a 
general favorite, though my own experience of it makes 
it a tough, dry, wooden fiber, only to be eaten under 
great provocation. I infer that it is poorer in spring 
than at other seasons, and that I have not been fortu- 
nate in cooks. Bear, I was surprised to learn, is not 
generally liked by mountaineers — my companions had 



FROM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 171 

eaten eveiy species, and were not pleased with any. 
The black-tailed deer of the mountains is a general 
favorite; so is the mountain-hen or grouse; so is the 
antelope, of course; the elk and mountain-sheep less 
decidedly so. None of our party liked horse, or knew 
any way of cooking it that would make it really pala- 
table, though of course it has to be eaten occasionally, 
for necessity hath no law — or rather, is its own law. 
Our conductor had eaten broiled wolf, under compulsion, 
but could not recommend it ; but he certified that a slice 
of cold boiled dog — loell boiled, so as to free it from 
rankness, and then suffered to cool thoroughly — is ten- 
der, sweet and delicate as lamb. I ought to have ascer- 
tained the species and age of the dog in whose behalf 
this testimony was borne — for a young JS'ewfoundland 
or king Charles might justify the praise, while it would 
be utterly unwarranted in the case of an old cur or mas- 
tiff — but the opportunity was lost, and I can only give 
the testimony as I received it. 

Cache-la-Poudre seems to be the center of the ante- 
lope country. There are no settlements, save a small 
beginning just at tliis ford, as yet hardly three months 
old — ^between Denver, seventy miles on one side, and 
Laramie, one hundred and thirty on the other. The 
]^orth Platte and the Laramie, both head in the moun- 
tains, forty to eighty miles due west of this point, thence 
pursuing a generally north course for more than a hun- 
dred miles among the hills, which are here lower and 
less steep than further south. The bold, high, regular 
front displayed by the Eocky Mountains for at least a 
hundred (and, I believe, for two hundred) miles south 



172 FKOM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 

of the Caclie-la-Pondre, hence gradually melts away 
into a succession of softer, rounder, lower hills ; snow 
disappears ; the line between the mountains and the 
plains is no longer straight and sharply defined ; and 
the still waters of tlie plain have for some miles an alka- 
line appearance, beside being very scarce in summer. 
The Cherokee Trail plunges into the mountains on the 
north side of and very near to Cache-la-Poudre ; and 
henceforth we overtake no emigrants moving westward 
— none of any sort — but meet a few in wagons making 
for Boulder City or the Gregory Diggings. Since we 
crossed Clear Creek, on which there is on this trail a 
decent fringe of cotton-wood, we had seen but the 
merest shred of small cotton-woods and some shrub 
willow at wide intervals along the larger water-courses ; 
but the pine still sparsely covered the face of the Kocky 
Mountains. Cache-la-Poudre has quite a fair belt of 
cotton-wood ; thenceforth there is scarcely a cord of 
wood to a township for the next fifty or sixty miles ; and 
the pine is no longer visible on the hills near us, because 
they expose little rock, and hence are swept by tlie an- 
nual fires. The high prairie on either side is thinly, 
poorly grassed, being of moderate fertility at best, often 
full of pebbles of the average size of a goose-egg, and 
apparently doomed to sterility by drouth. This region, 
though inferior in soil, and less smooth in surface, is not 
dissimilar in its topography to Lombardy, and like it 
will in time be subjected to systematic irrigation, should 
the Rocky Mountain gold mines prove rich and exten- 
sive. Some of the streams crossed by our road might 
easily be so dammed at their egress fi'om the mountains 



FROM DENNER TO LARAlkllE. 173 

as to irrigate miles in width to the South Platte, forty 
or fifty miles distant ; and, at the prices which vegeta- 
bles must always command here should the gold mines 
prove inexhaustible, the enterprise would pay well. I 
was told at Cache-la-Poudre that encouraoino^ sis^ns of 
gold had been obtained on that stream, though it had 
only begnn to be prospected. 

We were np and away betimes, still over thinly- 
grassed, badly-watered prairie, rather level in its gene- 
ral outlines, but badly cut by steep-banked water- 
courses, now dry. Some shallow ponds are also formed 
here in the wet season, bnt the last of them had just 
dried np. We drove fifteen miles, and stopped for 
breakfast on a feeble tributary of Cache-la-Poudre, 
named Box Elder, from a small tree which I first ob- 
served here, and which is poorer stuff, if j)Ossible, than 
cotton- wood. This is the only tributary which joins the 
Cache-la-Poudre below its egress from the mountains. 
All the streams of this region are largest wdiere they 
emerge from the mountains, unless re-enforced below by 
other streams having a like origin ; the thirsty prairie 
contributes nothing, but begins to drink them up from 
the time they strike it. The smaller streams are thus 
utterly absorbed in the course of five to ten miles, un- 
less they happen sooner to be lost in some larger creek. 
Drouth, throughout each summer, is the inexorable and 
desolating tyrant of the plains. 

Rising from the valley of Box Elder, we passed over 
a divide, and were soon winding our way among the 
JSuttes, or irregular, loosely aggregated hills, which 
form a prominent feature of the next seventy or 



174: FEOM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 

eiglitj miles, and which I must try to give some idea 
of. 

The soil of this region, like that of the plains gener- 
ally, is mainly clay, with some sand and gravel inter- 
mixed — the gravel probably washed from the mountains. 
Here, though not at a distance from the mountains, 
loose, wafer-rounded stones, from the size of a pigeon's 
egg up to that of a man's head, are often, though by no 
means uniformly, intermingled with the soil, especially 
near the beds of streams. These stones are of various 
kinds and colors, including quartz, indicating a moun- 
tain origin. But there seems to be no underlying rock 
in place — that is, none at any depth attained by the 
deepest water-courses — and the soil, when sodden by the 
j)ouring rains of winter and early spring, seems unable 
to oppose any resistance to the washing, wearing in- 
fluence of every stream or rill. The average level of 
the plains would seem to have once been at least forty 
or fifty feet higher than at present, the greater part of 
the earth to that depth having been gradually worn 
away and carried down the streams to the Missouri and 
lower Mississippi. But there are localities which, from 
one cause or another, more or less obstinately resist this 
constant abrasion ; and these are gradually moulded 
into hills by the abstraction annuall}« proceeding all 
around them. Some of them have been washed down 
to so gentle a slope that grass covers them completely, 
and prevents further loss ; but the greater number are 
still being gullied, washed and worn away by the in- 
fluence of each violent rain. Others have living streams 
at their base, which, having once taken a sheer against 



FEOM DENVER TO LAEAMIE. 175 

them, are continually increasing the acnteness of their 
angles and gonging more and more decidedly into their 
banks, occasionally flinging down tons of undermined 
earth into their channels to be gradually carried off, as 
so much has already been. In such places, the Buttes 
are nearly perpendicular and square-faced; but they 
are more apt to be circular, and steeper near the sum- 
mit than below. In some instances, the earth is of a 
bright vermilion color ; in others, partly thus and part- 
ly white ; giving the Buttes a variegated and fantastic 
appearance, like that of the Pictured Rocks of Lake 
Superior. When first seen from a distance, the ensemble 
of the red Buttes is very striking. But the white clay, 
as it is gradually washed away, leaving surfaces almost 
or quite perpendicular exposed to the action of sun, air 
and water, is, by some occult agency, gradually hard- 
ened into a kind of rock, of which long ranges of per- 
pendicular bluffs are composed, sometimes miles in 
extent, but broken and disturbed at intervals by the in- 
tervention of water-courses or other influences. 

After leaving Box Elder, our road gradually ascended, 
winding among the rounded and less regularly arranged 
Buttes first described above, but passing no water but 
a single spring and little available grass, until it des- 
cends a long hill to a fork of Howard's Creek, twenty 
miles from Box Elder. Here we stopped for dinner at 
3, p. M., beside, two or three wagon's of Pike's Peakers, 
from whom we obtained a generous supply of fresh 
bread and another antelope ham, very much to the im- 
provement of our edible resources. - (I may as well 
explain here that all the emigrants we met going into 



176 FEOM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 

the Kansas dis£:iu2:s, had started from the Missouri, on 
the north side of the Platte, and had failed to cross at 
Shinn's ferrj, sixtj-hve miles np the latter stream, sup- 
posing that they could do so at Fort Kearney, or some 
other point below the forks; hut, in the absence of 
ferries, the high water had headed them off, and forced 
them clear np to Laramie whence they were now work- 
ing southward, liaving lost fully two hundred miles by 
neglecting to cross the Platte where they might have 
done so). In all this region, it is a settled maxim, that 
you must cross (if you can) a stream directly upon 
reaching it, if your way lies across it, never camping 
before you do so, lest a sudden rise should obstruct 
your passage for days. Many have lost a fortnight's 
weary travel by failing to heed this rule in spirit with 
regard to the Platte. 

We moved again at -Q.Ye, passing over a high ridge, 
and into a broad valley, with rounded hills on the west, 
and a range of such precipitous clay-rock bluffs as I 
liave tried to describe on the east. These bluffs were 
broken through at intervals, and the streams that came 
down the hills on the west ran out at the brooks, after 
traversing the valley for two or three miles, and flowed 
away east to join Howard's Fork and the South Platte. 
Our trail here bore considerably west of north, evi- 
dently to reach the mouth of the Cheyenne Pass. We 
had hoped to make our next camp at that point ; but 
night fell upon us before reaching it, and we stopped 
on a little run where we found water and good grass, 
close under the mountains, and in one of the loneliest 
spots I ever beheld. JSTot a tree nor shrub was visible, 



FKOM DENVER TO LAEAMIE. lii 

liur had been for miles ; yet, it was not diiiiciTlt to 
gatlier dry sticks enough to cook our supper, proving 
wliat I have elsewhere observed, that wood was for- 
merly more common in all this region than now. We 
had all turned in by nine, and were doing very well, 
when a rush, by one of our mules, apprised ns that he 
wa-s loose, having broken his lariat; he was soon 
caught and made fast ; and we all addressed ourselves 
to slumber again. In an hour, however, there was a 
fresh alarm, and not without reason ; for three of our 
mules had gone, w^e could not tell wliitlier. The first 
impression was, that a band of Cheyennes, who w^ere 
known to be encamped in the mountains very near us, 
had, unsuspected by us, been watching our progress from 
their heights, and had stolen down under cover of the 
deep darkness, unfastened, and started our mules with 
intent to run them off. This was not an agreeable view 
of the case, as we could hope neither to recover nor 
replace our faithful animals for at least a week. How- 
ever, a little watching of the mule still fast, convinced 
our conductor that the others had started back on the 
road we had traversed, which was a route the Chey- 
ennes were most unlikely to take, while so near their 
hiding-places in the mountains. So two of our men 
started on the back track, but returned in an hour 
unsuccessful. Then the remaining mule was saddled 
and bridled — and he had to be thrown down twice be- 
fore he would submit to the operation — when our con- 
ductor mounted him, expecting to be instantly thrown 
by the perverse beast, unused to the saddle, but he was 
happily disappointed, and started down the road on a 

8* 



178 FROM DENVER TO LAKAMIE. 

brisk trot. By this time there was moonlight ; and he 
found all the missing mules a little beyond the point 
to which he had previously proceeded on foot, and 
brought them back in triumph. It was now break of 
day, and we resolved to feed and breakfast for once 
before starting. We did so, and moved on at six, a. m., 
reaching " Camp Walbach," at the mouth of the Chey- 
enne Pass, in less than half an hour. 

Let me halt here a moment to illustrate the military 
and public land systems of the United States. It last 
year entered the head of some genius connected with 
the War department, that the public interest or safety 
required the establishment of a military post at this 
point, and one was accordingly planted and maintained 
there throughout last winter. Of course, buildings were 
required to shelter the officers, soldiers, and animals 
in that severe climate, and they were accordingly erec- 
ted ; some of the timber being transported from Laramie 
— a distance of fully eighty miles. In the main, how- 
ever, they are built of pine logs from the adjacent 
mountains, the crevices being plastered with mud. In 
the spring, the troops were very properly withdrawn, 
leaving half a dozen good serviceable houses, and a 
superior horse-shed and corral untenanted. Hereupon, 
three lazy louts have squatted on the premises, intend- 
ing to start a city there, and to hold and sell the gov- 
ernment structures under a claim of preemption ! I 
need hardly say that, in the absence of any United 
States survey, with the Indian title still unextinguished, 
this claim is most impudent ; but that will not prevent 
their asserting it, and I fear with success. Tlie private 



FROM DENVER TO LARAMIE. 179 

interest on one side will be strong, with none on the 
other ; they can threaten to exert a political influence, 
favorably or adversely, as the case may be, to those 
whom they find in power ; if they are only tenacious 
enough, impudent enough, they will probably carry 
their point. Yet, they might as fairly preempt the 
White House at Washington, should they ever chance 
to find it vacant. 

We drove on across a badly-gullied region, wherein 
are the heads of Horse Creek — the first stream on our 
route that runs to the ^N'orth Platte — and struck the 
Chugwater just where it emerged from the mountains, 
about eleven, a. m. Thence, we followed down this 
creek more than forty miles, crossing it four times, and 
finally leaving it on our left to cross the Laramie river, 
eight or ten miles above this place. 

The Chugwater is a rapid, muddy mill-stream, run- 
ning in a deep, narrow, tortuous channel, and constantly 
gouging into one bank or the other, except where the 
willows and some other small shrubs oppose the resis- 
tance of their matted roots to the force of the current. 
The rocky hills sometimes crowd the stream closely, 
compelling the road to make a circuit over the high 
prairie adjacent to avoid the impracticable canons 
through which the stream frets and foams on its devious 
way. The " Red Buttes" are numerous and conspicuous 
on the upper course of this creek — the ochry earth or 
rock which gives them their peculiar color being ac- 
counted a rich iron ore. On the lower bottoms of this 
stream, we found far better grass than elsewhere on this 
journey. But the day was hot, and our mules sufiered 



180 FilOM DENYEK TO LAEAMIE. 

SO mucli from miisketoes and flies that they ate fitfully 
and sparingly where we halted for dinner, and again 
where we stopped for the night. "VYe were unable to 
stop where the grass was best, because we could not 
there get our animals dow^n the steep creek-bank to 
water. 

We made our last camp at a point thirty miles from 
this post, having made one hundred and sixty miles in 
three days' steady travel, hampered by the necessity of 
finding grass and water for our beasts. With grain, I 
think they would easily have made sixty-five miles per 
day. We stopped beside a stone-and-mud shanty of 
very rude construction, where a Frenchman had this 
spring made a small dam across the Chugwater, so as to 
irrigate and fence (by a ditch) a small piece of intervale, 
on which he had attempted to grow some grains and 
vegetables, with rather poor promise of success. He 
was absent, and no person or domestic animal to be seen 
about his place. Tiie night was uncommonly w^arm for 
this region — the musketoes a good deal more attentive 
than obliging. We rose early again, came on ten miles 
for breakfast, passing almost continually between two 
rows of magnificent buttes, often looking in the distance 
like more or less ruined castles ; one of them reminded 
me strongly of the Eoman Coliseum. Two miles after 
breakfast, we crossed the Chugwater for the last time, 
and left it running north to the Larauiie, while we struck 
a more easterly course for this place. Two miles further 
on, we came to a most excellent spring — the first I had 
seen since I emerged from the Kocky Mountains, by 
Clear Creek, two weeks before. I had been poisoned by 



FKOM DENVER TO LAEAMIE. 181 

brook water — often warm and muddy — so long that I 
could hardly get enough of this. ^Ye now passed over 
twelve or fifteen miles of high, rolling, parched, barren 
prairie, and halted for dinner by a little brook — the only 
one that crosses our trail between the Chugwater and 
Laramie — after which we drove down opposite this 
place in an hour, but were obliged to go two miles be- 
low, and pay $2 50 bridge-toll to get across the Laramie, 
now very high, and looking decidedly larger at their 
junction than the ISTorth Platte itself. 

I -have been tediously minute in my record of this 
cross-march to reach the high road to California, because 
some kind friends have remonstrated with me against 
the fancied perils of my journey, as if I were running 
recklessly into danger. I believe this portion of my 
route is at least as perilous as any other, being the only 
part not traversed by a mail-stage or any public con- 
veyance, and lying wholly through a region in which 
there are not a dozen white settlers, all told, while it is 
a usual battle-ground between hostile tribes of Indians. 
But we were never in any shadow of danger ; and, 
though I was compelled to economize steps in order to 
complete the healing of my lame leg, 1 have rarely had 
a more pleasant journey. Let any one wdio wishes an 
independent and comfortable ride, just run up to Den- 
ver and ask my friend D. B. Wheelock to harness up his 
four-mule team to the Eockaway wagon and take him 
over to Laramie, and if he does not enjoy a fine pros- 
pect, bracing breezes, a lively pace and excellent com- 
pany, then he will be less fortunate than I was. 



XYH. 

LARAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 

South Pass, Eocky Mountains, July 5, 1859. 

I EXHAUSTED all the possibilities of obtaining a lodg- 
ing in Laramie before applying to the commander of 
the post ; but no one else could (or would) afford me a 
shelter on any terms ; so I made a virtue of necessity, 
and applied to Captain Clark, who at once assigned me 
a room — there being few troops there at present — and 
for the five days I remained there I slept between a 
floor and a roof, after five weeks' experience of the more 
primitive methods of keeping cold and storm at bay. 
I was treated with more than hospitality — with gener- 
ous kindness — ^by Captain Clark, Lieutenants Hascall 
and Follett, and Dr. Johns — and yet the long tarry 
became at length irksome, because I had already lost 
too much time, and was most anxious to be moving 
westward. Finally, the mail-stage from the East hove 
in sight on the morning of June 30, but halted just 
across Laramie River all day, repairing coach; and it 
was eight, p. m., when it started — I alone perched on 
the summit of its seventeen mail-bags as passenger — 
he who had thus far filled that exalted post kindly giv- 
ing way for me, and agreeing to take instead the slower 
wagon that was to follow next morning. We forded 
the swollen Laramie two miles above the fort, in the last 
vestige of twilight — had the usual trouble with mules 



LAKAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 183 

turning about in mid-stream, tangling up the team, and 
threatening to uj)set the wagon — but overcame it after 
a while, got safely out, drove on fifteen miles to Warm 
Sj^ring — a fountain which throws out half water enough 
for a grist-mill, all which is drank up by the thirsty 
sands through which it takes its course, before it can 
reach the Platte, only three or four miles distant. We 
camped here till daylight, then lost two hours in hunt- 
ing up our mules, which had been simply tied in pairs, 
and allowed to go at large in quest of the scanty grass 
of that region. They were found at last, and we went 
on our way rejoicing. 

I shall not weary my readers with a journal of our 
travels for the last four days. Hitherto, since I left 
civilized Kansas, I had traversed routes either newly 
opened, or scarcely known to the mass of readers ; but 
from Laramie I have followed the regular California 
and Oregon Overland Trail, already many times de- 
scribed, and by this time familiar to hundreds of thou- 
sands. Suffice it that, for over two hundred miles from 
Laramie, it traverses a region substantially described 
in my notes of my journey from the buffalo-range to 
Denver, and from Denver to Laramie ; a region, for the 
most part, rainless in summer and autumn, yet on whose 
soil of more or less sandy clay, lacking support from 
ridges of underlying rock, has been more seamed, and 
gouged, and gullied, and washed away, by the action 
of floods and s-treams than any other on earth — a region 
of blufl's and buttes, and deep ravines, and intervales, 
and shallow alkaline lakelets, now mainly dried up, and 
streams running milky, even when low, with the clay 



184 LAKAlvnE TO SOUTH PASS. 

gullied from their banks, and sent off to render the Mis- 
souri a river of mud, and to fertilize the bottoms of the 
lower Mississippi. Occasionally, but not so frequently 
as south of Laramie, the clay-hills, hardened into rock 
by some alchemy of nature, present the perpendicular 
fronts and ruinous-castle aspects already described — in 
a few instances, the scanty creeks which make their 
way from the mountains to the North Platte, or the 
Sweetwater run through narrow canons of such rock ; 
but usually eacb creek has washed out for itself a wide 
valley, and the bluffs or buttes, where they exist, are 
distant many miles on one side if not on both. In a 
few places, the mountains are so near that their thinly- 
scattered, stunted, scraggy yellow-pines are plainly 
seen — are even close beside us ; but usually the pros- 
pect is composed of rolling prairie very scantily grassed 
and often thickly covered for miles on miles by the 
everlasting sage-busli of this desolate region. This is 
not an anomaly, as might be supposed — the stem lives 
for years, perhaps centuries, though the shoots and 
leaves die " every autumn. Another shrub, less com- 
mon, but wdiich often thickly covers hundreds of acres, 
is the grease-wood — a low, prickly bush, growing in 
bunches, like the sage-bush, and looking like a bad imi- 
tation of the English privet. Besides these two miser- 
able shrubs, the dry land, other than the mountains, 
for hundreds of miles, produces a very little burnt-up 
grass in patches, and a good many ill-favored weeds of 



* I guess this is a mistake ; fnrtlier observatiom induces me to believe 
that the sage-bush is an evergreen. 



LAEAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 185 

no known or presumed value. Of wood, the Platte 
and its more easterly tributaries have, at intervals, a 
shred of the eternal cotton-wood of the plains, much of 
it the more scrnbbj and worthless species known as 
bitter cotton-wood, with a very little of the equally 
worthless box-elder — and that is all. But, one hnndred 
and forty miles this side of Laramie, we leave the Platte, 
wdiicli here comes from the south, and strike nearly 
forty miles across a barren "divide" to its tributary, 
the Sweetwater, which we find just by Independence 
Kock, quite a landmark in this desolate region, with 
several low mountains of almost naked rock around it, 
having barely soil enough in their crevices to support a 
few dwarfish pines. Five miles above this is the Devil's 
Gate — a passage of the Sweetwater, through a perpen- 
dicular canon, some twenty-five feet wide, and said to 
be six hundred feet hio-h — a passao^e which must have 
been cut while the rock was still clay. Here a large 
party of Mormons were caught by the snows, while on 
their way to Salt Lake, some years since, and compelled 
to encamp for the winter, so scantily provided that 
more than a hundred of them died of hunger and hard- 
ship before spring. Many more must have fallen vic- 
tims had not a supply-train from Salt Lake reached 
them early in the season. And here is a fountain of 
cold water — the first that I had seen for more than a 
hnndred miles, though there is another on the long 
stretch from the Platte to the Sweetwater, which is said 
to be good, but a drove of cattle were making quite too 
free with it when we passed. Here the weary crowds 
of emigrants to California were to gather yesterday for 



186 LAKAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 

a celebration of the " glorious fourtli," and I was warmly 
invited to stop and participate, and I now heartily wish 
I had, since I find that all our haste was in vain. 

It was midnight of the 3d, when we reached the mail- 
route station known as the Three-Crossings, from the 
fact that so many fordings of the Sweetwater (here con- 
siderably larger than at its mouth, forty miles or more 
below) have to be made within the next mile. We had 
been delayed two hours by the breaking away of our 
two lead-mules, in crossing a deej) water-course after 
dark — or rather by the fruitless efforts of our conductor 
to recover them. I had been made sick by the bad 
water I had drank from the brooks we crossed during 
the hot day, and rose in a not very patriotic, certainly 
not a joyful mood, unable to eat, but ready to move on. 
We started a little after sunrise ; and, at the very first 
crossing, one of our lead-mules turned about and ran 
i]ito his mate, whom he threw down and tangled so 
that he could not get up ; and in a minute another 
mule was down, and the two in imminent danger of 
drowning. They were soon liberated from the harness, 
and got up, and we went out; but just then an emi- 
grant on the bank espied a carpet-bag in the water — 
mine, of course — and fished it out. An examination 
was then had, and showed that my trunk was missing — 
the boot of the stage having been opened the night 
before, on our arrival at the station, and culpably left 
unfastened. We made a hasty search for the estray, 
but without success, and, after an hour's delay, our con- 
ductor drove off; leaving my trunk still in the bottom 
of Sweetwater, which is said to be ten feet deep just 



LAKAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 187 

below onr ford. I would rather have sunk a thousand 
dollars there. Efforts were directed to be made to fish 
it out ; but my hope of ever seeing it again is a faint 
one. We forded Sweetwater six times yesterday after 
that, without a single mishap ; but I have hardly yet 
become reconciled to the loss of my trunk, and, on the 
whole, my fourth of July was not a happy one. 

Our road left a southerly bend of Sweetwater aftei 
dinner, and took its way over the hills, so as not to 
strike the stream again till after dark, at a point three 
miles from where I now write. We passed, on a high 
divide some miles before we were crossing of the Sweet- 
water, a low swamp or meadow knowTi as " Ice Springs," 
from the fact that ice may be obtained here at any time 
by digging down some two or three feet into the frosty 
earth. We met several wagon-loads of come-outers 
from Mormonism on their way to the states in the course 
of the afternoon ; likewise, the children of the Arkansas 
people killed two years since, in what is known as the 
mountain-meadows-massacre. We are now nearly at 
the summit of the route, with snowy mountains near us 
in several directions, and one large snow-bank by the 
side of a creek we crossed ten miles back. Yet our 
yesterday's road was no rougher, while it was decidedly 
better, than that of any former day this side of Laramie, 
as may be judged from the fact that, with a late start, 
we made sixty miles with one (six mule) team to our 
heavy-laden wagon. The grass is better for the last 
twenty miles than on any twenty miles previously ; and 
the swift streams that frequently cross our way are cold 
and sweet. But, unlike the Platte, the Sweetwater has 



188 LAEAISIIE TO SOUTH PASS. 

scarcely a tree or bush growing on its banks ; bnt np 
the little stream on which I am writing, on a box in the 
mail company's station-tent, there is glorious water, 
some grass, and more wood tlian I have seen so close 
together since I emerged from the gold diggings on Yas- 
qner's Fork, five hundred miles away. A snow-bank, 
forty rods long and several feet deep. Ties just across the 
brook ; the wind blows cold at night ; and we had a 
rain-sqiiall— just rain enough to lay the dust — yesterday 
afternoon. The mail-agent whom we met here has 
orders not to run into Salt Lake ahead of time; so he 
keeps us over here to-day, and will then take six days 
to reach Salt Lake, which we might reach in four. I am 
but a passenger, and must study patience. 

A w^ord on the Salt Lake mail. Of the seventeen 

bags on which 1 have ridden for the last four days and 

better, at least sixteen are filled with large bound books, 

mainly Patent Office Reports, I judge — but all of them 

undoubtedly w^orks ordered printed at the public cost — 

your cost, reader ! — ^by Congress, and now on their way 

to certain favored Mormons, franked (by proxy) "Pub. 

Doc. Free^ J. M. Bernhisel, M. C." I do not blame 

Mr. P. for clutching his share of this public plunder, 

and distributing it so as to increase his own popularity 

and importance ; but I do protest against this business 

of printing books by wholesale at the cost of the whole 

people for free distribution to a part only. It is every 

way wrong and pernicious. Of the one hundred and 

ninety thousand dollars per annum paid for carrying the 

Salt Lake mail, nine-tenths is absorbed in the cost of 

carrying these franked documents to people who contrib- 



LAKAMIE TO SOUTH PASS. 189 

ute little or notliing to the sup^Dort of the government 
in any way. Is this fair ? Each Patent Office Report 
will have cost the treasury four or five dollars by thu 
time it reaches its destination, and will not be valued by 
the receiver at twenty-five cents. Why should this busi- 
ness go on? Why not "reform it altogether?" Let 
Congress print whatever documents are needed for its 
owm information, and leave the people to choose and 
buy for themselves. I have spent four days and five 
nights in close contact with the sharp edges of Mr 
Bernhisel's " Pub. Doc." — have done my very utmost to 
make them present a smooth, or at least endurable sur- 
face ; and I am sure there is no slumber to be extracted 
therefrom unless by reading them — a desj^erate resort, 
which no rational person would recommend. For all 
practical purposes, they might as well — now that the 
printer has been paid for them — be where I heartily wish 
they were — in the bottom of the sea. 



xvni. 

SOUTH PASS TO BRIDGER. 

Big Sandy, Oregon, July 6, 1859. 
I WROTE last from the Mail Company's station-tent in 
" Quaking Asp Canon," at the east end of the South 
Pass, three miles off the direct and well-beaten road 
from the Missouri to Salt Lake, and so to California, 
which was formerly the road to Oregon as well. But 
Col. Lander, at the head of a U. S. exploring and pio- 
neer party, has just marked and nearly opened a new 
road through the Canon aforesaid, which makes a l!^orth- 
ern cut-off, and strikes the old Oregon Trail some four- 
teen miles south of Fort Hall, saving sixty miles on the 
journey to Oregon, and striking through to California 
on a northerly route, which I think passes to the north 
of Honey Lake, and thence over the Sierra down one 
of the forks of the Yuba. I cannot, of course, say that 
this is better than the old route, but it can hardly be 
more destitute of grass ; while the naked fact that it 
divides the travel, affords cheering hope of a mitigation 
of the sufferings and hardships of tlie long journey. I 
missed seeing Col. Lander, to my regret ; but I am sure 
he is doing a good work, for which thousands will have 
reason to bless him. At all events, a great majority of 
the California, with all the Oregon emigration, are turn- 
ing off on the new route, and I pray that they may find 



SOUTH PASS TO BKIDGER. 191 

on it food for their weary, famished cattle, and a safe 
journey to their chosen homes. 

Though the elevation of the Pass is nearly 8,000 feet 
above the ocean level, I never endured heat exceeding 
that of yesterday in and about the station-tent. The sun 
rose clear, as it almost always does here in Summer, 
soon dispelling the chill which attends every night in this 
region ; and by nine o'clock the heat was most intense. 
But the afternoon brought clouds, a wind and a petty 
rain-squall, and the following night was cold enough to 
still any mosquitoes but those of the Rocky Mountains. 
I suspect these would sing and bite even with the mer- 
cury at zero. 

Toward evening, I climbed the hill on the east of the 
Canon, and obtained from its summit a wide prospect, 
but how desolate ! These hills are of volcanic formation, 
a kind of coarse slate, the strata upheaved almost per- 
pendicularly, the surface shattered and shingly, with 
veins of hard quartz running across them. There is 
scarcely a bushel of soil to each square rod, of course 
no grass, and little vegetation ofi. any kind. To the 
north, say ten to twenty miles away, is a snow-streaked 
range of the Rocky Mountains; to the south, some 
miles across the Sweetwater, are lower and less barren 
hills, with some snow-banks and some wood — quaking- 
asp and yellow-pine — on their northern slopes. The 
Sweetwater heads among the mountains to the north 
and north-west. There is a little well-gnawed grass on 
its immediate banks and on those of its tributaries — 
on the high rolling land which fills all beside of the 
wide space between the mountains north and those south, 



192 SOUTH PASS TO BKIDGEK. 

there is not a miile-feed to eacli acre. Some grease- 
wood at intervals, tlie eternal sage-busli, and a few 
weeds, vritli the quaking-asp and yellow-pine afore- 
said, and a thick tangle of bitter cotton-wood (whicli is 
a bad caricature of our swamp-alder) thatching por- 
tions of a few of the smaller streams, comprise the 
entire vegetation of this forlorn region. 

We started at seven this morning, came down to the 
old Salt Lake, Oregon, and California Trail at the Sweet- 
water, crossed and left that creek finally, and traversed 
a slightly rolling country for seven miles to the " Twin 
Buttes," two low, clay-topped mounds which mark the 
point from whicli the water runs easterly to the Gulf of 
Mexico, and westerly to the Pacific. If any one has 
pictured to himself the South Pass as threading some 
narrow, winding, difiicult, rocky mountain-gorge, he is 
grievously mistaken. The trail through the South Pass 
is the best part of the route from Atchison to California ; 
the clay has here been almost wholly washed away and 
carried oflT, so that the road passes over a coarse, heavy, 
gravelly sand, usually as compact and smooth as the 
best illustrations of the genius of MacAdam. I never 
before traversed forty -five miles of purely natural road 
so faultless as that through the South Pass which I 
have traveled to-day. But this tract would be good for 
roads, as it seems absolntely good for nothing else. The 
natural obstacles to constructing a railroad through this 
region are not comparable to those overcome in the con- 
struction of the Camden and Amboy. 

Passing the Twin Buttes — the distance between the 
mountains on the north and the hills on the south being 



SOUTH PASS TO BKIDGEK. 193 

not less than tliirty miles, and thenceforth westward 
rapidly widening — we ran down the side of a dry, shal- 
low water-course some five miles, to a wet, springy 
marsh or morass of fifteen or twenty acres, covered with 
poor, coarse grass, in which are found the so-called 
"Pacific Sprhigs." The water is clear and cold, but 
bad. Perhaps the number of dead cattle of which the 
skeletons dot the marsh, made it so distasteful to me. 
At all events, I could not drink it. This bog is long 
and narrow ; and from its western end issues a petty 
brook, which takes its way south-westwardly to the 
Sandy, Green River, the Colorado and the Gulf of Cali- 
fornia. Hence, toward the south and west, no hills are 
visible — nothing but a sandy, barren j)lain, mainly cov- 
ered with the miserable sage-bush. 

Twelve miles further on, we crossed Dry Sandy — not 
quite dry at this point, but its tliirsty sands would surely 
drink the last of it a mile or so further south. Five 
miles beyond this, the old and well-beaten Oregon Trail 
strikes off to the northwest, while our road bends to the 
southwest. We are now out of the South Pass, which 
many have traversed unconsciously, and gone on won- 
dering and inquiring when they should reach it. Seven 
miles further brought us to Little Sandy, and eight 
more to Big Sandy, whereon is the station at which, at 
four p. M. we (by order), stopped for the night. All 
these creeks appear to rise in the high mountains many 
miles north of us, and to run off with constantly dimin- 
ishing volume, to join the Colorado at the south. E'ei- 
ther has a tree on its banks that I have seen — only a few 
low willow bushes at long intervals — though I hear that 



194: SOUTH PASS TO BKIDGEK. 

Bome cotton-wood is found on this creek ten miles above. 
Eacli lias a " bottom " or intervale of perhaps four rods 
in average width, in which a little grass is found, but 
next to none on the high-sandy plains that separate them. 
Drouth and sterility reign here without rival. 

Fort Bridger, Utah, July 8, 1859. 

"We crossed Big Sandy twice before quitting it — once 
just at the station where the above was written, and 
again eighteen miles further on. Tw^elve miles more 
brought us to Green Eiver — a stream here perhaps as 
large as the Mohawk at Schenectady or the Hudson at 
Waterford. It winds with a raj^id, muddy current 
through a deep, narrow valley, much of it sandy and 
barren, but the residue producing some grass with a few 
large cotton-woods at intervals, and some worthless 
bushes. There are three rope ferries within a short dis- 
tance, and two or three trading-posts, somewhat fre- 
quented by Indians of the Snake tribe. Eighteen miles 
more of perfect desolation brought us to the next mail 
company's station on Black's Fork, at the junction of 
Ham's Fork, two-large mill-streams that rise in the 
mountains south and west of this point, and run together 
into Green Eiver. They have scarcely any timber on 
their banks, but a sufficiency of bushes — bitter cotton- 
wood, willow, choke-cherry, and some others new to me 
— with more grass than I have found this side of the 
South Pass. On these streams live several old moun- 
taineers, who have large herds of cattle which they are 
rapidly increasing by a lucrative traffic with the emi- 
grants, who are compelled to exchange their tired, gaunt 



SOUTH PASS TO BRIDGER. 195 

oxen and steers for fresli ones on almost any terms. R. 
D.j whose tent we passed last evening, is said to have 
six or eight hundred head ; and, knowing the country 
perfectly, finds no difficulty in keeping them through 
summer and winter by frequently shifting them from 
place to place over a circuit of thirty or forty miles. J. 
K., who has been here some twenty-odd years, began 
with little or nothing, and has quietly accumulated 
some fifty horses, three or four hundred head of neat 
cattle, three squaws, and any number of half-breed 
children. He is said to be worth seventy-five thousand 
dollars, though he has not even a garden, has probably 
not tasted an apple nor a peach these ten years, and 
lives in a tent which would be dear at fifty dollars. I 
instance this gentleman's way of life not by any means 
to commend it, but to illustrate the habits of a class. 
White men with two or three squaws each are quite 
common throughout this region, and young and rela- 
tively comely Indian girls are bought from their fathers 
by white men as regularly and openly as Circassians at 
Constantinople. The usual range of prices is from forty 
to eighty dollars — about that of Indian horses. I hear 
it stated that, though all other trade may be dull, that 
in young squaws is always brisk on Green River and 
the E'orth Platte. That women so purchased should be 
discarded or traded ofi", as satiety or avarice may sug- 
gest, and that they should desert or deceive their pur 
chasers on the slightest temptation, can surprise no one. 
I met an Irishman on Big Sandy whose squaw had re- 
cently gone oflT with an Indian admirer, leaving him 
two clever, bright, half-breed children of seven and five 



196 SOUTH PASS TO BKIDGER. 

years. I trust that plank in the republican national 
platform, which affirms the right and duty of Congress- 
ional proliibition, not only of slavery in the territories 
but of polygani}^ also, is destined to be speedily embodied 
in a law. 

We passed yesterday the two places at which a body 
of Mormons late in 18-57, surprised and burned the 
supply-trains following in the rear of the federal troops 
sent against them. The wagons were burned in corral, 
and the place where each stood is still distinctly marked 
on the ground. It seems incredible, yet I am assured 
it is undoubtedly true, that none of the military officers 
who were severally dispatched from Kansas, late that 
season on the road to Salt Lake without a commander 
and with no definite instructions, was directed to afford 
any protection or give any feed to these important 
towns. It is lamentable that presidents and secretaries 
of war are not subject to court-martials. 

We have for the last two days been passing scores of 
2:ood loo; or ox-chains — in one instance, a hundred feet 
together — which, having been thrown away by Cali- 
fornia emigrants to lighten the loads of their famished, 
failing cattle, have lain in the road for months, if not 
years, passed and noted by thousands, but by none 
thought worth picking up. One would suppose that 
the traders, the herdsmen, the Indians, or some other of 
the residents of this region, would deem these chains 
worth having, but they do not. I had already become 
accustomed to the sight of wagon-tire, wagon-boxes, etc., 
rejected and spurned in this way ; but good, new chains 
thus begging for owners, I have only noted this side of 



SOUTH PASS TO BRIDGER. 197 

the South Pass. They are said to be still more abund- 
ant further on. 

This morning, I was agreeably surprised by a greeting 
from three acquaintances I made in Denver, who invited 
me to share their outfit and journey to California, who 
left Denver the morning before I did, and beside whom 
I camped my first night on the road to Laramie. They 
are just through the Cherokee Trail, entering the moun- 
tains at Cache-la-Poudre and crossing Green River by a 
ferry some thirty miles below the point at which I did. 
They were detained one day making a raft on which to 
ferry their wagon over the IRorth Platte, and found 
some rough places in the mountains ; at one of which 
they were obliged to unhitch their horses and let their 
wagon down a steep pitch by ropes. They found the 
water of Bitter Creek — along which lies their road for 
a hundred miles or so — bitter indeed; and in some 
places grass was deficient ; but their horses look nearly 
as well as wlien they left Denver. Their route has of 
course been some two hundred and fifty miles shorter 
than mine, and they will reach Salt Lake scarcely a day 
behind me. I wish I bad been able to accompany them 
on their rugged and little-traveled route. 

On the other side of the Pass, we had mainly clear, 
hot days ; on this side, they are cloudy and cool. We 
had a little shower of rain with abundance of wind 
night before last, another shower last night, and more 
rain is now threatened. Yet all old residents assure me 
that rain in Summer is verj^ rare throughout this region. 

We stop to-night at a point only one hundred miles 
from Salt Lake, with two rugged mountains to cross, so 
that we are not to reach that stopping-place till Monday. 



XIX. 

FROM BRIDGER TO SALT LAKE. 

Salt Lake City, Utah, July 11, 1859. 
FoKT Bridger, "whence my last was sent, may be re- 
garded as tlie terminus in this direction of the Great 
American Desert. Not that the intervening country is 
fertile or productive, for it is neither ; but at Bridger 
its cliaracter visibly changes. The hills we here ap- 
proach are thinly covered w^ith a straggling growth of 
low, scraggy cedar ; the sage-bush continues even into 
this valley, but it is no longer universal and almost alone ; 
grass is more frequent and far more abundant ; Black's 
Fork, which, a few miles below, runs w^iitish with the 
clay-wash of the desert, is here a clear, sparkling moun- 
tain torrent, divided into half a dozen streams by the 
flat, pebbly islets on which the little village — or rather 
post — is located ; while, twelve miles up its course, an 
improvement of 500 acres, begun some years since by 
the Mormons, has this season been put under cultivation, 
with flattering prospects. Oats, barley, potatoes, peas, 
etc., are the crops sought ; and the enterprising growers 
have contracts for the supply of Fort Bridger at prices 
which will insure them a liberal return in case they re- 
alize even a moderate yield. This may seem a small 
matter ; but I doubt that there are, in all, 500 acres 
more under cultivation in the 250,000 square miles or 
more lying between the forks of the Platte on the east, 



FROM BEIDGER TO SALT LAKE. 199 

the Salt Lake Basin on the west, the settlements of 
New-Mexico on the south, and the Yellow Stone on the 
north. Yet in this radius are included several military 
posts at which every bushel of grain consumed costs a a 
average of $5, wliile potatoes and other edible roots 
would command nearly as good prices, could they be 
had. There are herdsmen at intervals throughout all 
this region who have each their hundreds of heads of 
cattle, but who hardly know the taste of a potato or 
turnip, who have never planted nor sowed an acre, and 
never contemplated the possibility of growing an apple 
or cherry, though they expect to live and die in this re- 
gion. I trust, therefore, that the Fort Bridger enterprise 
will succeed, and that it will incite to like experiments 
in the vicinity of each wilderness post. The present 
enormous cost of our military service in this immense 
desert may thus be slightly compensated by proving the 
great desert not absolutely worthless, and creating a ba- 
sis of civilization for its rude, nomadic, lawless, but 
hardy, bold, and energetic pioneers. 

From Fort Bridger (named after an Indian trader who 
first settled here ; then settled as an outpost and relief- 
station by the Mormons when they began to people this 
valley, but abandoned by them on the approach, late in 
'57, of the army, by which it has since been held) the 
Salt Lake trail rises over a high, broad ridge, then de- 
scends a very steep, rocky, difiicult hill to Big Muddy, 
a branch of Black's Fork, where — 12 miles from Brid- 
ger — is the Mail Company's station, at which we had 
expected to spend the night. But the next drive is 60 
miles, and our new conductor wisely decided to cut a 



200 FROM BEIDGER TO SALT LAKE. 

piece off of it that evening, as tlie road at tlie other end 
was hazardous in a dark night. So we moved on a lit- 
tle after sundown, rising over another broad ridge, and, 
after narrow^lj escaping an upset in a gully dug in the 
trail by that day's violent shower, camped 15 miles on, 
a little after 11 p. m. The sky was densely clouded ; 
the moon nearly down ; it was raining a little and blow- 
ing more, as we lay down to rest, most of us under the 
sullen sky. An hour or more thereafter, our mules 
(which were simply tied in pairs by long ropes and thus 
turned out to graze) were somehow disturbed, and our. 
stage-men challenged and stood ready to repel the sup- 
posed depredator. He proved, however, to be a friend, 
traveling on mule-back from Bridger to this place, who 
had wandered off the trail in the deep darkness, and 
perhaps been carried among our animals by the fond- 
ness of his own for congenial society ; so all was soon 
right, and the new comer unsaddled, pulled' off his 
blankets, and was soon couched among us. At day- 
light we were all astir, and drove down to Bear River, 
only three or four miles distant, for breakfast. 

We halted before crossing, beside what is here called 
a grocery, the only other structure on that side of the 
river being a blacksmith's shop (consisting, I believe, of 
a bellows and anvil under the open sky), to which some 
part of our rigging w^as sent for repair, wdiile we pre- 
pared and ate breakfast. There were two or three men 
sleeping in wet blankets on the grass, who rose and 
made a fire on our appearance. The grocery was irreg- 
ularly constructed of boxes wdiich had once contained 
goods, but, having fulfilled that end, w^ere thus made 



FKOM BEIDGER TO SALT LAKE. 201 

useful afresh. I suppose it was six ,feet high, and five 
by eight in diameter, though no two of its sides were 
of the same height. An okl tent-cloth for covering com- 
pleted the edifice, from which we obtained sardines, 
canned lobster, and prepared cofiPee w4iich was said to 
contain sugar and cream, but which was voted by our 
drinkers a swindling humbug. I believe these articles 
exhausted the capabilities of the concern ; but, as we 
had bread, w^e needed no more. Some of our party 
thought otherwise, however; they called for whisky or 
some kindred beverage, and were indignantly disgusted 
at its non-production. They had become inured to gro- 
ceries containing nothing that could by possibility be 
eaten ; but a grocery devoid of some kind of " rot," as 
the fiery beverage was currently designated, was to 
them a novel and most distasteful experience. How- 
ever, a man was at once dispatched across the creek to 
a similar establishment, but more happily furnished, 
whence he soon returned w^ith the indisj^ensable fluid 
(price $3 for a flask containing perhaps a pint and a 
half of some diabolic alcoholic concoction, wherein the 
small modicum of genuine whisky had taken to itself 
seven other devils worse than the first), and our break- 
fast was finished to general satisfaction. 

A word here on the liquor trafiic throughout this 
region. A mercantile firm in this city, in order to close 
out promptly its extra stock of liquors, ofiers to sell 
whisky at the extraordinarily low price of $3 50 per 
gallon. I believe the common price from Laramie west- 
ward to the Sierra Nevada is $8 per gallon ; but it is 
•usually sold to consumers by the bottle, holding less 

9* 



202 FEOM BKIDGEK TO SAI.T LAKE. 

than a quart, for wliich tlie cliarge is $2 up to $3 50, 
but seldom below $2 50. And such liquor ! True, I 
have not tasted it ; but the smell I could not escape ; 
and I am sure a more wholesome potable might be com- 
pounded of spirits of turpentine, aqua fortis, and steep- 
ed tobacco. Its look alone would condemn it — soapy, 
ropy, turbid, it is within bounds to say that every pint 
of it contains as much deadly poison as a gallon of pure 
whisky. And yet fully half the earnings of the work- 
ing men (not including the Mormons, of whom I have 
yet seen little) of this whole region are fooled away on 
this abominable witch-broth and its foster-brother to- 
bacco, for which they pay $1 to 2 50 per pound ! The 
log-tavern-keeper at Weber, of wdiom our mail-boys 
bought their next supply of " rot," apologetically ob- 
served, "There a'n't nothing bad about this whisky; 
the only fault is, it isn't good." I back that last asser- 
tion with my whole heart. 

Fording Bear River — here a swift, rocky-bottomed 
creek, now perhaps forty yards wide, but hardly three 
feet deep — we rose gradually through a grassy valley, 
partially inclosed by high, perpendicular stone Buttes, 
especially on the right. The stone (evidently once 
clay) outposts of one of the Buttes are known as " The 
Needles." We thence descended a long, steep hill into 
the valley of " Lost Creek," — why " lost," I could not 
divine, as the creek is plainly there — a fair trout-brook, 
running through a grassy meadow, between high hills, 
over wdiich we made our way into the head of " Echo 
Cailon," down which we jogged some twenty miles to 
Weber River. 



FROM BlUDGEli TO SALT LAKE. 203 

This cauon reminded me afresh that evil and jrood 
are strongly interwoven in our early lot. Throughout 
the desolate region which stretches from the Sweetwater 
nearly or quite to Bridger, we had in the main the best 
natural road I ever traveled — dusty, indeed, and, in 
places, abrupt and rough, but equal in the average to 
the carefully-made and annually-repaired roads of 'New 
England. But in this fairly -grassed ravine, hemmed in by 
steep, picturesque bluffs, with springs issuing from their 
bases, and gradually gathering into a trout-brook as we 
neared the Weber, we found the " going decidedly bad," 
and realized that in the dark it could not but be danger- 
ous. For the brook, wdth its welcome fringe of yellow, 
choke-cherry, service-berry, and other shrubs, continu- 
ally zigzagged from side to side of the caiion, compel- 
ling us to descend and ascend its precipitous banks, and 
cross its sometimes miry bed, often with a smart chance 
of breaking an axle, or upsetting. 

We stopped to feed and dine at the site of " General 
Well's Camp " during the Mormon War of 1857-8, and 
passed, ten miles below, the fortifications constructed 
under his orders in that famous campaign. They seem 
childish affairs, more suited to the genius of Chinese 
than of civilized warfare. I cannot believe that they 
would have stopped the Federal troops, if even tolerably 
led, for more than an hour. 

We reached our next station on the Weber, a little 
after 5, p. m., and did not leave till after an early break- 
fast next (yesterday) morning. The Weber is, perhaps, 
a little larger than the Bear, and runs through a deep, 
narrow, rugged valley, with no cultivation so far as we 



20-i FKOM i3eidgi:r to salt lake. 

saw it. Two "groceries," a blaclvsmith's-sliop, and the 
mail-station, are all the habitations we passed in follow- 
ing down it some four or five miles to the shaky pole- 
bridge, on which we crossed, though it is usually ford- 
able. We soon after struck off up a rather steep, grassy 
water-course which we followed to its head, and thence 
took over a " divide " to the head of another such, on 
which our road wound down to "East Cailon Creek," 
a fair, rapid trout-brook, running through a deep, nar- 
row ravine, up which we twisted, crossing and recross- 
ing the swift stream, until we left it, greatly diminished 
in volume, after tracking it through a mile or so of low, 
swampy timber, and frequent mud-holes, and turned up 
a little runnel that came feebly brawling down the side 
of a mountain. The trail ran for a considerable dis- 
tance exactly in the bed of this petty brooklet — said 
bed consisting wholly of round, water- worn granite 
bowlders, of all sizes, from that of a pigeon's egg up to 
that of a potash-kettle ; when the ravine widened a lit- 
tle, and the trail wound from side to side of the water- 
course as chances for a foothold were profi'ered by one 
or the other. The bottom of this ravine was poorly 
timbered with quaking-asp, and balsam-fir, with some 
service-berry, choke-cherry, mountain currant, and other 
bushes; the whole ascent is four miles, not very steej^, 
except for the last half-mile ; but the trail is so bad, 
that it is a good two hours' work to reach the summit. 
But, that summit gained, we stand in a broad, open, 
level space on the top of the Wahsatch range, with the 
Uintah and Bear Mountains on either hand^ forming a 
perfect chaos of wild, barren peaks, some of t/tCin snowy, 



FROM ERIDGEK TO SALT LAKE. 205 

between ^Yllich we have a glance at a part of the Salt 
Lake Yalley, some thirty miles distant, though the city, 
much nearer, is hidden by intervening heights, and the 
lake is likewise concealed farther to the right. The 
descent toward the valley is steeper and shorter than 
the ascent from the side of Bear River — the first half- 
mile so fearfully steep, that I judge few passengers ever 
rode down it, though carriage- wheels are uniformly 
chained here. But, though the southern face of these 
mountains is covered by a far more luxuriant shrubbery 
than the northern, among which oaks and maples soon 
make their appearance for the first time in many a 
weary hundred miles. Kone of these seem ever to grow 
into trees ; in fact, I saw none over six feet high. Some 
quaking-asps, from ten to twenty-five feet high, the 
largest hardly more than six inches through, cover 
patches of these precipitous mountain- sides, down which, 
and over the low intervening mountain, they are toil- 
somely dragged fifteen or twenty miles to serve as fuel 
in this city, where even such poor trash sells for fifteen 
to twenty dollars per cord. The scarcity and wretched- 
ness of the timber — (I have not seen the raw material 
for a decent ax-helve growing in all my last thousand 
miles of travel) — are the great discouragement and 
drawback with regard to all this region. The parched 
sandy clay, or clayey sand of the plains disappeared 
many miles back; there has been rich, black soil, at 
least in the valleys, ever since we crossed Weber River; 
but the timber is still scarce, small, and poor, in the 
ravines, while ninety-nine hundredths of the surface of 
the mountains is utterly bare of it. In the absence of 



206 FKOM BRIDGER TO SALT LAKi:. 

coal, liow can a region so unblest ever be tMckly settled, 
and profitably cultivated ? 

The descent of the mountain on this side is but two 
miles in length, with the mail company's station at the 
bottom. Here (tliirteen miles from the city, twenty- 
se^^en from Bear Eiver) we had expected to stop for the 
night ; but our new conductor, seeing that there were 
still two or three hours of good daylight, resolved to 
come on. So, with fresh teams, we soon crossed the 
" little mountain " — steep, but hardly a mile in ascent, 
and but half a mile in immediate descent — and ran 
rapidly down some ten miles through the narrow ravine 
known as " Emigration Canon," where the road, though 
much traversed by Mormons as well as emigrants and 
mercha-nt-trains, is utterly abominable ; and, passing 
over but two or three miles of intervening plain, were 
in this city just as twilight was deepening into night. 

Salt Lake City wears a pleasant asj^ect to the emi- 
grant or traveler, weary, dusty, and browned with a 
thousand miles of jolting, fording, camping, through the 
scorched and naked American Desert. It is located 
mainly on the bench of hard gravel that slopes south- 
ward from the foot of the mountains toward the lake 
valley ; the houses — generally small and of one story — 
are all built of adobe (sun-hardened brick), and have a 
neat and quiet look ; while the uniform breadth of the 
streets (eight rods) and the " magnificent distances " usu- 
ally preserved by the buildings (each block containing 
ten acres, divided into eight lots, giving a quarter of an 
acre for buildings and an acre for garden, fruit, etc., to 



FEOM BRIDGEIi TO SALT LAKE. 207 

each hoiiseliolder), make up an ensemhle seldom equaled. 
Then the rills of bright, sparkling, leaping water which, 
diverted from the streams issuing from several adjacent 
mountain canons, flow through each street and are con- 
ducted at -^11 into every garden, diffuse an air of fresh- 
ness and coolness which none can fail to enjoy, but 
which only a traveler in summer across the Plains can 
fully appreciate. On a single business street, the post- 
office, principal stores, etc., are set pretty near each 
other, though not so close as in other cities ; everywhere 
else, I believe, the original plan of the city has been 
wisely and happily preserved. Southward from the 
city, the soil is softer and richer, and there are farms of 
(I judge) ten to forty or sixty acres ; but I am told that 
the lowest portion of the valley, nearly on a level with 
the lake, is so impregnated with salt, soda, etc., as to 
yield but a grudging return for the husbandman's la- 
bor. I believe, however, that even this region is avail- 
able as a stock-range — thousands on thousands of cattle, 
mainly owned in the city, being pastured here in winter 
as well as summer, and said to do well in all seasons. 
For, though snow is never absent from the mountain- 
chains which shut in this valley, it seldom lies long in 
the valley itself. 

Tlie pass over the Wahsatch is, if I mistake not, eio-ht 
thousand three hundred feet above the sea-level ; this 
valley about four thousand nine hundred. The atmos- 
phere is so pure that the mountains across the valley to 
the south seem but ten or fifteen miles ofi*; they are 
really from twenty to thirty. The lake is some twenty 
miles westward ; but we see only the rugged mountain 



208 FEOM BRIDGER TO SALT LAKE. 

known as " Antelope Island " wliich rises in its center, 
and seems to bound the valley in that direction. Both 
the lake and valley wind away to the north-west for a 
distance of some ninety miles — the lake receiving the 
waters of Weber and Bear Rivers behind the mountains 
in that direction. And then there are other valleys like 
this, nested among the mountains south and west to the 
very base of the Sierra Nevada. So there will be room 
enough here for all this strange people for many years. 

But of the Mormons and Morraonism, I propose to 
speak only after studying them ; to which end I remain 
here several days longer. 



XXI. 

TWO HOURS WITH BRIGHAM YOUNG. 

Salt Lake Citt, Utah, July 13, 1859. 

Mt friend Dr. Bernhisel, late delegate in Congress, 
took me this afternoon, by appointment, to meet Brig- 
ham Young, President of the Mormon Church, wlio had 
expressed a Avillingness to receive me at two p. m. "We 
were very cordially welcomed at the door by the presi- 
dent, who led us into the second-story parlor of the 
largest of his houses (he has three), where I was intro- 
duced to Heber C. Kimball, General Wells, General 
Ferguson, Albert Carrington, Elias Smith, and several 
other leading men in the church, with two full-grown 
sons of the president. After some unimportant conver- 
sation on general topics, I stated that I had come in 
quest of fuller knowledge respecting the doctrines and 
polity of the Mormon Church, and would like to ask 
some questions bearing directly on these, if there were 
no objection. President Young avowing his willingness 
to respond to all pertinent inquiries, the conversation 
proceeded substantially as follows : 

H. G. — Am. I to regard Mormonism (so-called) as a 
new religion, or as simply a new development of Chris- 
tianity ? 

B. Y. — "We hold that there can be no true Christian 
Church without a priesthood directly commissioned by, 
and in immediate communication with the Son of God 



210 TWO HOURS WITH liklC .;] A..T YOITNG. 

and Saviour of mankind. Such a cliiu'ch is that of the 
-Latter-Day Saints, called by thciii- enemies Mormons; 
we know no other that even pretends to have present and 
direct revelations of God's will. 

H. G. — Then I am to understand that you regard all 

other churches professing to be christian as the Church 

.of Rome regards all churches not in communion with 

itself — as schismatic, heretical, and out of the way of 

salvation? 

B. Y. — Yes, substantially. 

H. G. — Apart from this, in what respect do 3^our 
doctrines differ essentially from those of our Orthodox 
Protestant Churches — the Baptist or Methodist, for 
example ? 

B. Y. — We hold the doctrines of Christianity, as re- 
vealed in the Old and Kew Testaments — also in the 
Book of Mormon, which teaches the same cardinal truths 
and those only. 

II. G. — Do you believe in the doctrine of the Trinity? 

B. Y. — We do ; but not exactly as it is held by 
other churches. We believe in the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost, as equal, but not identical — not as 
one person [being], "^ We believe in all the bible 
teaches on this subject. 

H. G. — Do you believe in a personal devil — a dis- 
tinct, conscious, spiritual being, whose nature and acts 
are essentially malignant and evil ? 

B. r:— Wedo. 



* I am quite sure that President Young used liere the word "person " as 
1 have it ; but I am not aware that christians of any denomination do re- 
gard the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, as one person. 



TWO HOITES WITH BRTGH^iM YOUNG. 211 

H. G. — Do yoii hold tlie doctrine of eternal i)unish- 
ment ? 

B. Y. — We do ; though perhaps not exactly as other 
churches do. We believe it as the bible toadies it. 

II. G. — I understand that you regard baptism by im- 
mersion as essential ? 

B. I^.— We do. 

H. G. — Do you practice infjint baptism ? 

B. Y.—^o. 

H, G. — Do you make removal to these valleys obliga- 
tory on your converts ? 

B. Y. — They would consider themselves greatly ag- 
grieved if they were not invited hither. We hold to 
such a gathering together of God's people, as the bible 
foretells, and that this is the place, and now is the time 
appointed for its consummation. 

H. G. — The predictions to which you refer, have 
usually, I think, been understood to indicate Jerusalem 
(or Judea) as the place of such gathering. 

B. Y. — Yes, for the Jews — not for others. 

IL G. — What is the position of your church with res- 
pect to slavery ? 

B. Y. — We consider it of divine institution, and not 
to be abolished until the curse pronounced on Ham 
shall have been removed from his descendants. 

II. G. — Are any slaves now held in this territory ? 

B. Y. — There are. 

II. G. — Do your territorial laws uphold slavery ? 

B. Y. — ^Those laws are printed— you can read for 
yourself. If slaves are brought here by those who 



212 TWO iiour.s with bkigham young. 

owned tliem in the states, we do not favor their escape 
from the service of those owners. 

II. G. — Am I to infer that Utah, if admitted as a 
member of the Federal Union, will be a slave state? 

II. G. — Ko ; she will be a free state. Slavery here 
wonld prove useless and unprofitable. I regard it gen- 
erally as a curse to the masters. I myself hire many 
laborers, and pay them fair wages ; I could not afford 
to own them. I can do better than subject myself to 
an obligation to feed and clothe their families, to pro- 
vide and care for them in sickness and health. Utah is 
not adapted to slave-labor. 

II. G. — Let me now be enlightened with regard more 
especially to your church polity : I understand that you 
require each member to pay over one-tenth of all he 
produces or earns to the cliurch. 

B. Y. — That is a requirement of our faith. There is 
no compulsion as to the payment. Each member acts 
in the premises according to his pleasure, under the dic- 
tates of his own conscience. 

//. G. — What is done with the proceeds of this tith- 
ing? 

B. Y. — Part of it is devoted to building temples, and 
other places of worship ; part to helping the jDOor and 
needy converts on their way to this country ; and the 
largest portion to the support of the poor among the 
saints. 

II. G. — Is none of it paid to bishops, and other dig- 
nitaries of the church ? 

B. Y. — Not one penny. I^o bishop, no elder, no 
deacon, nor other church officer, receives any compen- 



TWO HUUIiS WITH BKIGIIAM YOUNG. 213 

sation for his official services. A bishop is often re- 
quired to put his hand into his own pocket, and provide 
tlierefrom for the poor of his charge ; but he never re- 
ceives anything for his services. 

H. G. — How, then, do your ministers live? 

B. Y. — By the labor of their own hands, like the 
first apostles. Every bishop, every elder, may be daily 
seen at work in the field or the shop, like his neighbors; 
every minister of the church has his proper calling, by 
which he earns the bread of his family ; he who cannot, 
or will not do the church's work for nothino- is not 
wanted in her service ; even our lawyers (pointing to 
General Ferguson and another present, who are the 
regular lawyers of the church), are paid nothing for their 
services ; I am the only person in the church who has 
not a regular calling aj^art from the church's service, 
and I never received one farthing from her treasury ; if 
I obtain anything from the tithing-house, I am charged 
with, and pay for it, just as any one else would ; the 
clerks in the tithing-store are paid like other clerks ; 
but no one is ever paid for any service pertaining to the 
ministry. We think a man who cannot make his living 
aside from the ministry of Christ unsuited to that office. 
I am called rich, and consider myself worth two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars ; but no dollar of it was ever 
paid me by the church, nor for any service as a minister 
of the everlasting Gospel. I lost nearly all I had when 
we were broken up in Missouri, and driven from that 
state. I was nearly strip23ed again, when Josej)h Smith 
was murdered, and we were driven from Illinois ; but 
nothing was ever made up to me by the church, nor by 



214 TWO rroiTRs with beigiiam young. 

any one. I believe I know liow to acquire property, 
and liow to take care of it. 

II. G. — Can you give me any rational explanation of 
the aversion and hatred with which your people are gene- 
rally regarded by those among whom they have lived and 
with whom they have been brought directly in contact? 

£. IT. — 1^0 other explanation than is afforded by the 
crucifixion of Christ and the kindred treatment of God's 
ministers, prophets and saints, in all ages. 

H. G. — I know that a new sect is always decried and 
traduced — that it is hardly ever deemed respectable to 
belong to one — that the Baptists, Quakers, Methodists, 
Universalists, etc., have each in their turn been regard- 
ed in the infancy of their sect as the offscouring of the 
earth ; yet I cannot remember that either of them were 
ever generally represented and regarded by the older 
sects of their early days as thieves, robbers, murderers. 

JB. Y. — If you will consult the cotemporary Jewish 
account of the life and acts of Jesus Christ, you will 
find that he and his disciples were accused of every 
abominable deed and purpose — robbery and murder in- 
cluded. Such a work is still extant, and may be found 
by tliose who seek it. 

II G. — What do you say of the so-called Danites, or 
Destroying Angels, belonging to your church ? 

I^. Y. — What do yoii' say ? I know of no such band, 
no such persons or organization. I hear of them only 
in the. slanders of our enemies. 

H. G. — With regard, then, to the grave question on 
which your doctrines and practices are avowedly at war 
with those of the Christian world — that of a plurality 



TWO IIOUKS WITH BKIGUAM YOUNG. 215 

of wives — is the system of your cluircli acceptable to 
the majority of its women? 

B. Y. — They could not be more averse to it than I 
was when it was first revealed to ns as the Divine will. I 
think they generally accept it, as 1 do, as the will of God. 

H. G. — How general is polygamy among you ? 

B. Y. — I conld not say. Some of those present 
(heads of the church) have each but one wife ; others 
have more : each determines what is his individual duty. 

H. G. — What is the largest number of wives belong- 
ing to any one man ? 

B. Y. — I have fifteen ; I know no one who has more ; 
but some of those sealed to me are old ladies whom I 
regard rather as mothers than waives, but whom I have 
taken home to cherish and support. 

II. G. — Does not the Apostle Paul say that a bishop 
should be " the husband of one wife ?" 

B. Y. — So we hold. We do not regard any but a mar- 
ried man as fitted for the ofiice of bishop. But the 
apostle does not forbid a bisho}) having more wives 
than one. 

II. G. — Does not Christ say that he who puts away 
his wife, or marries one whom another has put away, 
commits adultery ! 

B. Y. — Yes ; and I hold that no man should ever put 
away his wife except for adultery — not always even for 
that. Such is iny individual view of the matter. I do 
not say that wives have never been put away in our 
church, but that I do not approve of the practice. 

H. G. — Row do you regard what is commonly term- 
ed the Christian Sabbath ? 



216 TWO HOURS with brigiiam young. 

B. Y. — As a divinely appointed day of rest. We 
enjoin all to rest from secular labor on that da3^ We 
would liave no man enslaved to the Sabbath, but we 
enjoin all to respect and enjoy it. 

Sucli is, as nearly as I can recollect, the substance of 
nearly two hours' conversation, wherein mucli was said 
incidentally that would not be worth reporting, even if 
I could remember and reproduce it, and wherein others 
bore a part ; but as President Young is the first minis- 
ter of the Mormon church, and bore the principal part 
in the conversation, I have reported his answers alone 
to my questions and observations. The others appeared 
uniformly to defer to his views, and to acquiesce fully 
in his responses and explanations. He spoke readily, 
not always with grammatical accuracy, but with no ap- 
pearance of hesitation or reserve, and with no apparent 
desire to conceal anything, nor did he rej^el any of my 
questions as impertinent. He was very plainly dressed 
in thin summer clothing, and with no air of sanctimony 
or fanaticism. In appearance, he is a portly, frank, 
good-natured, rather thick-set man of fifty-five, seeming 
to enjoy life, and to be in no particular hurry to get to 
heaven. His associates are plain men. evidently born 
and reared to a life of labor, and looking as little like 
crafty hypocrites or swindlers as any body of men I ever 
met. The absence of cant or snufiBle from their manner 
was marked and general ; yet, I think I may fairly say 
that their Mormonism has not impoverished them — 
that they were generally poor men when they embraced 
it, and are now in verv comfortable circumstances — as 



TWO HOUES WITH BKIGHAM YOUNG. 217 

men averaging three or four wives apiece certainlj need 
to be. 

If I hazard any criticisms on Mormonism generally, 
I reserve them for a separate letter, being determined 
to make this a fair and full expose of the doctrine and 
polity, in the very words of its prophet, so far as I can 
recall them. I do not believe President Young himself 
could present them in terms calculated to render them 
less obnoxious to the Gentile world than the above. 
But I have a right to add here, because I said it to the 
assembled chiefs at the close of the above colloquy, that 
the degradation (or, if you please, the restriction) of 
woman to the single office of child-bearing and its ac- 
cessories, is an inevitable consequence of the system 
here paramount. I have not observed a sign in the 
streets, an advertisement in the journals, of this Mor- 
mon metropolis, whereby a woman proposes to do any- 
thing whatever. ISlo Mormon has ever cited to me his 
wife's or any woman's opinion on any subject ; no Mor- 
mon woman has been introduced or has spoken to me ; 
and, though I have been asked to visit Mormons in 
their houses, no one has spoken of his wife (or wives) 
desiring to see me, or his desiring me to make her (or 
their) acquaintance, or voluntarily indicated the exist- 
ence of such a being or beings. I will not attempt to 
report our talk on this subject; because, unlike what I 
have above given, it assumed somewhat the character 
of a disputation, and I could hardly give it impartially ; 
but one remark made by President Young I think I can 
give accurately, and it may serve as a sample of all 
that was offered on that side. It was in these words, I 

10 



218 TWO HOUES WITH BEIGHAM YOUNG. 

think exactly : " If I did not consider myself competent 
to transact a certain business without taking my wife's 
or any woman's counsel with regard to it, I think I 
ought to let that business alone."^ The spirit with re- 
gard to woman, of the entire Mormon, as of all other 
polygamic systems, is fairly displayed in this avowal. 
Let any such system become established and prevalent, 
and woman will soon be confined to the harem, and her 
appearance in the street with unveiled face will be ac- 
counted immodest. I joyfully trust that the genius of 
the nineteenth century tends to a solution of the prob- 
lem of woman's sphere and destiny radically difi'erent 
from this. ^ 



* Another feature of President Young's remarks on this topic strikes 
irie on revision. He assumed as undeniable that outside of the Mormon 
church, married men usually keep mistresses — that incontinence is the 
general rule, and continence the rare exception. This assumption was 
habitual with the Mormons who, at various times, discussed with me the 
subject of polygamy. 



XXII. 

THE MORMONS AND MORMONISM. 

Salt Lake City, July^lS, 1859. 
Since my interview with Brigham Young, I have 
enjoyed opportunities for studying the Mormons in their 
social or festive and in their devotional assemblies. Of 
private social intercourse — that is, intercourse between 
family and family — I judge that there is comparatively 
little here ; between Mormons and Gentiles or strangers, 
of course still less. Their religious services (in the taber- 
nacle) are much like those that may be shared or wit- 
nessed in the churches of most of our popular sects ; the 
music rather better than you will hear in an average 
worshiping assemblage in the states ; the prayers perti- 
nent and full of unction ; the sermons adapted to tastes 
or needs different from mine. They seemed to me 
rambling, dogmatic, and ill-digested ; in fact, Elder Or- 
son Pratt, who preached last Sunday morning, prefaced 
his harangue by a statement that he had been hard at 
work on his farm throughout the week, and labored 
under consequent physical exhaustion. Elder John 
Taylor (I believe he is one of the Twelve ; at all events 
he is a high dignitary in the clmrch, and a man of de- 
cided natural ability) spoke likewise in the afternoon 
with little or no premeditation. Now, I believe that 
every preacher should be also a worker ; I like to see 
one mowing or pitching hay in his shirt-sleeves ; and I 



220 THK MOKMONS AND MORMONISM. 

hear witli edification an nnlettered but devout and earn- 
est evangelist who, having worked a part of the week 
for the subsistence of his family, devotes the rest of it to 
preaching the gospel to small school-house or Avayside 
gatherings of hearers, simply for the good of their souls. 
Let him only be sure to talk good sense, and I will 
excuse some bad grammar. But when a preacher is to 
address a congregation of one to three thousand persons, 
like that which assembles twice each sabbath in the 
Salt Lake City Tabernacle, I insist that a due regard for 
the economy of time requires that he should prepare 
himself, by study and reflection, if not by writing, to 
speak directly to the point. This mortal life is too short 
and precious to be wasted in listening to rambling, 
loose-jointed harangues, or even to those which severally 
consume an hour in the utterance, when they might be 
boiled down and clarified until they were brought within 
the compass of half an hour each. A thousand half- 
hours, Keverend Sir ! have you ever pondered their 
value? Sui^pose your time to be worth ten times that 
of an average hearer ; still, to talvc an extra half-hoar 
from a thousand hearers in order to save yourself ten or 
fifteen hours' labor In the due and careful preparation 
of a sermon, is a scandalous waste, which I see not how 
to justify. Be entreated to repent and amend ! 

The two discourses to which I listened were each in- 
tensely and exclusively Mormon. That is, they assumed 
tliat the Mormons were God's peculiar, chosen, beloved 
people, and that all the rest of mankind are out of the 
ark of safety and floundering in heathen darkness. I 
am not edified by this sort of preaching. It reminds 



THE MORMONS AND MOEIMONISM. 221 

me lorclbl J of tlie Pharisee's praj^er : '•' Lord, I tliant 
thee that I am not as otlier men are — unjust, extortion- 
ers," etc. I do not think good men delight in this 
assumption of an exclusive patent for the grace of God ; 
and I am quite sure it is not well adapted to the trans- 
formation of bad men into good. It is too well calculated 
to puff up its disciples with self-conceit and spiritual 
pride. That Jesus Christ is about to re-appear on the 
earth in all the pomp and splendor of a mighty conquer- 
or — that he will then proceed to take vengeance on his 
enemies (mankind in general, whether heathen or nom- 
inally Christians) and to glorify his elect (the Latter-Day 
Saints or Mormons) were treated by the Tabernacle 
j)reachers as propositions too self-evident to need demon- 
stration. Having thus chastised his enemies and " gath- 
ered his elect from the four winds of heaven," the 
Saviour is to reign over them here on earth for a thou- 
sand years ; at the end of which period, they are together 
to be transferred to heaven. Of course, I had heard the 
like of this before ; but it always seems to me a very 
gross and wooden perversion of the magnificent ima- 
gery whereby the Bible foreshadows a great spiritual 
transformation. Tlie spirit of the Mormon religion ap- 
pears to me Judaic rather than Christian ; and I am 
well assured that Heber C. Kimball, one of the great 
lights of the church, once said in conversation wdth a 
Gentile — " I do pray for my enemies : I pray that they 
may all go to hell." Neither from the pulpit nor else- 
where have I heard from a Mormon one spontaneous, 
hearty recognition of the essential brotherliood of the 
human race — one generous prayer for the enlightenment 



222 THE MORMONS AND MOKMONISM. 

and salvation of all manldnd. On tlie other hand, I 
have been distinctly given to understand that my inter- 
locutors expect to sit on thrones and to bear rule over 
multitudes in the approaching kingdom of God. In 
fact, one sincere, devout man has to-day assigned that 
to me as a reason for polygamy ; he wants to qualify 
himself, by ruling a large and diversified family here, 
for bearing rule over his principality in the " new earth," 
tliat he knows to be at hand. I think he might far bet- 
ter devote a few years to pondering Christ's saying to 
this effect, " lie who would be least in the kingdom of 
heaven, the same shall be greatest." 

I was undeceived with regard to the Book of Mor- 
mon. I had understood that it is now virtually dis- 
carded, or at least neglected, by the church in its ser- 
vices and ministrations. But Elder Pratt gave ns a 
synopsis of its contents, and treated it throughout as of 
equal anthority and importance with the Old and N'ew 
Testaments. He did not read from it, however, but 
from Malachi, and quoted text after text from the proph- 
ets, which he cited as predictions of the writing and 
discovery of this book. 

The congregation consisted, at either service of some 
fifteen hundred to two thousand persons — more in the 
morning than the afternoon. A large majority of them 
(not including the elders and chief men, of whom a 
dozen or so were present) were evidently of European 
birth ; I think a majority of the males were past the 
meridian of life. All gave earnest heed to the exercises 
throughout ; in fact, I have seldom seen a more devout 
and intent assemblage. I had been told that the Mor- 



THE MORMONS AND MOEMONISM. 223 

mons were remarkably ignorant, superstitious, and 
brutalized; but the aspect of these congregations did 
not sustain tliat assertion. Yery few rural congrega- 
tions would exhibit more heads evincing decided ability ; 
and I doubt whether any assemblage, so largely Euro- 
pean in its composition, would make a better appear- 
ance. Not that Europeans are less antSllectual or 
comely than Americans ; but our emigrants are mainly 
of the poorer classes ; and poverty, privation, and rug- 
ged toil, plow hard, forbidding lines in the human coun- 
tenance elsewhere than in Utah. Brigham Young was 
not present at either service. 

Do I regard the great body of these Mormons as 
knaves and hypocrites ? Assuredly not. I do not be- 
lieve there was ever a religion whereof the great mass 
of the adherents were not honest and sincere. Hypo- 
crites and knaves there are in all sects ; it is quite pos- 
sible that some of the magnates of the Mormon Church 
regard this so-called religion (with all others) as a con- 
trivance for the enslavement and fleecing of the many, 
and the aggrandizement of the few ; but I cannot believe 
that a sect, so considerable and so vigorous as the Mor- 
mon, was ever founded in conscious imposture, or built 
up on any other basis than that of earnest conviction. 
If the proj ector, and two or three of his chief confeder- 
ates are knaves, the great body of their followers were 
dupes. 

Nor do I accept the current Gentile presumption, that 
the Mormons are an organized banditti — a horde of rob- 
bers and assassins. Thieves and murderers mainly 
haunt the purlieus of great cities, or hide in caverns 



224: THE mofv:mons and moemonism. 

and forests adjacent to the great routes of travel. But 
when the Mormon leaders decided to set up their Zion 
in these parched mountain vales and canons, tb.e said 
valleys were utterly secluded and remote from all Gen- 
tile approach — away from any mail-route or channel of 
emigration. That the Mormons wished to escape Gen- 
tile control, scrutiny, jurit^prudence, is evident; that 
they meant to abuse their inaccessibility, to the detri- 
ment and plunder of wayfarers, is not credible. 

Do I, then, discredit the tales of Mormon outrages 
and crime — of the murder of the Parrishes, the Moun- 
tain Meadow massacre, etc. etc. — wherewith the general 
ear has recently been shocked ? No, I do not. Some 
of these may have been fabricated by Gentile malice — 
others are doubtless exaggerated — but there is some 
basis of truth for the current Gentile conviction that 
the Mormons have robbed, maimed, and even killed 
persons in this territory, under circumstances which 
should subject the perpetrators to condign punishment, 
but that Mormon witnesses, grand jurors, petit jurors, 
and magistrates determinedly screen the guilty. I 
deeply regret the necessity of believing this ; but the 
facts are incontestable. Tliat a large party of emigrants 
— not less than eighty — from Arkansas to California, 
were foully massacred at Mountain Meadows in Septem- 
ber, 1857, more immediately by Indians., but under the 
direct inspiration and direction of the Mormon settlers 
in that vicinity — to whom, and not to the savages, tlie 
emigrants had surrendered, after a siege, on the strength 
of assuran.ces that their lives at least should be spared — 
is established by evidence that cannot (I think) be in- 



THE MOKJVIONS AJ^D MOKMOXISM. 225 

validated — the evidence of conscience-smitten partakers 
in tlie crime, both Indian and ex-Mormon, and of child- 
ren of the slanghtered emigrants, who were spared as 
too young to be dangerous even as witnesses, and of 
whom the great majority have been sent down to the 
states as unable to give testimony; but two boys are 
retained here as witnesses, who distinctly remember 
that their parents surrendered to wdiite men, and that 
these white men at best did not attempt to prevent their 
perfidious massacre. These children, moreover, w^ere 
all found in the possession of Mormons — not one of 
them in the hands of Indians ; and, though the Mor- 
mons say they ransomed them from the hands of Indians, 
the children deny it, saying that they never lived with, 
nor were in the keeping of savages; and the Indians 
bear concurrent testimony. So in theParrish case: the 
family had been Mormons, but had apostatized — and 
undertook to return to the states; they were warned 
that they would be killed if they persisted in that reso- 
lution ; they did persist, and were killed. Of course, 
nobody will ever be convicted of their murder; but 
those who warned them of the fate on which they were 
rushing know^ why they were killed, and could discover, 
if they would, who killed them. 

The vital fact in the case is ju^t this : The great mass 
of these people, as a body, mean to be honest, just, and 
humane ; but they are, before and above all things else, 
Latter-Day Saints, or Mormons. They devoutly believe 
that they are God's peculiar and especial people, doing 
His work, up-building His kingdom, and basking in the 
sunshine of His peculiar favor. Whoever obstructs or 

10* 



226 THE MOEMONS AND MORMONISM. 

impedes them in this work, then, is God's enemy, who 
must be made to get out of the way of the establishment 
of Christ's kingdom on earth — made to do so by hiwful 
and peaceful means if possible, but by any means that 
may ultimately be found necessary. The Parrishes 
were apostates ; had they been allowed to pursue their 
journey to the states, they would have met many Saints 
coming up the road, whose minds they would have 
troubled if not poisoned ; and they would have told 
stories after reaching their destination Avhich would have 
deepened the general prejudice against the Saints; so 
the up-building and well-being of Christ's kingdom re- 
quired that they should die. The Arkansas emigrants 
slaughtered at Mountain-Meadows, had in some way 
abused the Saints, or interposed obstacles to the progress 
of God's work, and they were consequently given, over 
to destruction. Far be it from me to hint that one-fifth, 
one-tenth, one-twentieth, of the Mormons ever bore any 
part in these bloody deeds, or even know to this day 
that they were perpetrated. The great body of the 
Saints undoubtingly believe all the current imputations 
of Mormon homicide and outrage to be abominable 
calumnies. Many of the highest dignitaries of the 
church may be included in this number. But there are 
men in the church who know that they are not calum- 
nies — who know that Gentiles and apostates have been 
killed for the church's and for Christ's sake, and who 
firmly believe that they ought to have been. I grieve 
to say it, but I hold these more consistent and logical 
Mormons than their innocent and unsuspicious brethren. 
For if I were a Latter-Day Saint, undoubtingly believ- 



THE MOKMONS AND MOEMONISM. 227 

ing all opposers of the Mormon Church to be God's 
enemies, obnoxious to His wrath and curse, and power- 
fully obstructing the rescue of souls from eternal perdi- 
tion and torture, I should be strongly impelled to help 
put those opposers of God's purposes out of the way of 
sending any more immortal souls to everlasting fire. I 
should feel it my duty so to act, as a lover of God and 
man. And I confidently predict that not one Mormon 
who has killed a Gentile or apostate under a like view 
of his duty w^ill ever be fairly convicted in this territor}^ 
'No jury can be drawn here, unless in flagrant defiance 
of territorial laws, which is not mainly composed of 
Mormons; and no such jury will convict a Mormon of 
crime for any act done in behalf of God's kingdom — 
that is, of the Mormon church. 

I ask, then, the advocates of '^ popular sovereignty " 
in the territories to say what they propose to do in the 
premises. How do they intend to adapt their principle 
to the existing state of facts? They have suj)erseded 
Brigham Young, with a full knowledge that at least 
nine-tenths of the people of Utah earnestly desired his 
retention as governor. They have sent hither a batch 
of judges, who would like to earn their salaries; but 
the Mormon legislature devotes its sessions principally 
to the work of crippling and fettering these judges, so 
that they shall remain here as mere dummies or be 
driven into resignation. Their juries are all drawn for 
them by Mormon ofiicials, under regulations which vir- 
tually exclude all but Mormons from each panel; it is 
a violation of all the laws of Utah to cite in argument 
before any judge or jury here the decisions of any 



228 THE MORMONS AND MOFwMONlSM. 

court — even the supreme court of tlie United States — 
but the courts of Utah ; so that even the Drecl Scott 
decision could not lawfully be cited here in a fugitive 
slave case; in short, the federal judiciary, the federal 
executive, and the federal army, as now existing in 
Utah, are three transparent shams — three egregious 
farces ; they are costing the treasur}^ very large sums to 
no purpose; and the sooner the governor, marshal, 
judges, etc., resign, and the army is withdrawn, the bet- 
ter for all but a handful of contractors. "Popular 
sovereignty " has such full swing here that Brigham 
Young carries the territory in his breeches' pocket with- 
out a shadow of opposition ; he governs without respon- 
sibility to either law or public opinion ; for there is no 
real power here but that of " the church," and he is 
practically the church. The church is rich, and is hour- 
ly increasing in wealth; the church settles all civil 
controversies which elsewhere cause lawsuits ; the 
church spends little or nothing, yet rules everything ; 
while the federal government, though spending two or 
three millions per annum here, and keeping up a fussy 
parade of authority, is powerless and despised. If, 
then, we are to have " popular sovereignty " in the ter- 
ritories, let us have it pure and without shams. Let 
Brigham be reappointed governor ; withdraw the pres- 
ent federal office-holders and army ; open shorter and 
better roads to California through the country north of 
Bridger; and notify the emigrants that, if they choose 
to pass through Utah, they will do so at their own risk. 
Let the Mormons have the territory to themselves — it 
is worth very little to others, but reduce its area by 



THE MOKMONS AND MOKMONISM. 229 

cutting off Carson Y alley on tlie one side, and making 
a Rocky Mountain territory on the other, and then let 
them go on their way rejoicing. I believe this is not 
only by far the cheapest but the safest and best mode 
of dealing with the difficulties already developed and 
daily developing here, unless tlie notion of " popular 
sovereignty " in the territories is to be utterly exploded 
and given np. " Popular Sovereignty " in a territory 
is a contradiction in terms; but "popular sovereignty" 
in a territory backed by a thousand sharp federal bayo- 
nets and a battery of flying artillery, is too monstrous a 
futility, too transparent a swindle, to be much longer 
upheld or tolerated. 



xxni. 

SALT LAKE, AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

Salt Lake City, July, 18, 1859. 
A PAETY of US visited the lake on Saturday. It is 
not visible from this city, though it must be from the 
mountains which rise directly north of it, and more re- 
motely on all sides, but Antelope, Stansbury, and per- 
haps other islands in the lake, being mainly covered by 
high, rugged hills or mountains, are in plain sight from 
every part of the valley. The best of these islands is 
possessed by " the church," (Mormon) as a herd-ground, 
or ranche^ for its numerous cattle, and is probably the 
best tract for that purpose in the whole territory. That 
portion of the lake between it and the valley is so shal- 
low, that cattle may, at most seasons, be safely driven 
over to the island; while it is so deep (between three 
and four feet) that none will stray back again, and it 
would be difficult and dangerous to steal cattle thence 
in the night, when that business is mainly carried on. 
So the church has a large and capital pasture, and her 
cattle multiply and wax fat at the least possible ex- 
pense. The best canon for wood near this city is like- 
wise owned by " the church " — how owned, I can't pre- 
tend to say — but whoever draws wood from it must 
deposit every third load in the church's* capacious 

* On further inquiry, I learn that Brigham Young personally is the 
owner of thic splendid placer ; but, as he is practically the church, the cor- 
rection was hardly worth making. 



SALT LAKE AJSTD ITS ENVmONS. 231 

yard. These are but specimens of the managetnent 
whereby, though the saints are generally poor, often 
quite poor, so that a saint who has three wives can 
sometimes hardly afford to keep two beds — " the 
cliurch" has a comfortable allowance of treasures laid 
up on earth. And her leading apostles and dignitaries 
also, by a curious coincidence, seem to be in thriving 
circumstances. It looks to me as though neither they 
nor the church could afford to have the world burnt 
up for a while yet. 

Crossing, just west of the city, the Jordan (which 
drains the fresh waters of Lake Utah into Salt Lake, 
and is a large, sluggish creek), we are at once out of the 
reach of irrigation from the northern hills — the river 
intercepting all streams from that quarter — and are 
once more on a parched clay-plain, covered mainly with 
our old acquaintances, sage-bush and grease-wood; 
though there are wet, springy tracts, especially toward 
the southern mountains and near the lake, which pro- 
duce rank, coarse grass. ' Yet this seeming desert has 
naturally a better soil than the hard, pebbly gravel on 
which the city stands, and which irrigation has con- 
verted into bounteous gardens and orchards. I rejoice 
to percei\:p that a dam over the Jordan is in progress, 
whereby a considerable section of the valley of that 
river (which valley is forty miles long, by an average 
of twenty broad) is to be irrigated. There are serious 
obstacles to the full success of this enterprise in the 
scarcity of timber and the inequality of the plain, which 
is gouged and cut up by numerous (now dr}) water- 
com-ses; but, if tliis project is well engineered, it will 



232 SALT LAKE AUD ITS ENVmoNS. 

double the productive capacity of this valley, and I 
earnestly trust it may be. In the absence of judicious 
and systematic irrigation, there are far too many cattle 
and sheep on this great common, as the gaunt look of 
most of the cattle abundantly testifies. Water also is 
scarce and bad here ; we tried several of the springs 
which are found at the bases of the southern mountains, 
and found them all brackish, while not a single stream 
flows from those mountains in the five or six miles that 
w^e skirted them, and I am told that they aftbrd but 
one or two scanty rivulets throagli the whole extent of 
this valley. In the absence of irrigation, nothing is 
grown or attempted but wild grass ; of the half-dozen 
cabins we have passed between the Jordan and the 
lake, not one had even the semblance of a garden, or of 
any cultivation whatever. A shrewd woman, who had 
lived seven years near the lake, assured me that it 
would do no good to attempt cultivation there ; "" too 
much alkali" was her reason. I learn that, on the 
city side of the Jordan, when' irrigation was first intro- 
duced, and cultivation attempted, the soil, whenever 
allowed to become dry, was covered, for the first year 
or two, w^ith some whitish alkaline substance or com- 
pound ; but this was soon washed out and \^aslied oflf 
by the water, so that no alkali now exhibits itself, 
and this tract produces handsomely. Let the Jordan 
be so dammed, and its waters conducted into lateral 
canals that its whole valley may be amply irrigated, and 
there are few tracts of like area that will produce more 
generously, albeit, a majority of its acres now seem almost 
as sterile and hopeless as the great Anierican desert. 



SALT LAKE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 233 

Tliat this lake should be salt, is no anomaly. All 
large bodies of water into which streams discharge them 
selves, while thej hav^e severally no outlet, are or should 
be salt. If one such is fresh, that is an anomaly indeed. 
Lake Utah probably receives as much saline matter as 
Salt Lake; but she discharges it through the Jordan 
and remains herself fresh ; while Salt Lake, having no 
issue save by evaporation, is probably the saltest body 
of water on earth. The ocean is comparatively fresh ; 
even the Mediterranean is not half so salt. I am told 
that three barrels of this water yield a barrel of salt ; 
that seems rather strong, yet its intense saltness, no one 
who has not had it in his eyes, his mouth, his nostrils, 
can realize. You can no more sink in it than in a clay- 
bank, but a very little of it in your lungs would suffice 
to strangle you. You make your way in from a hot, 
rocky beach over a chaos of volcanic basalt that is try- 
ing to the feet ; but, at a depth of a yard or more, you 
have a fine sand bottom, and here the bathing is delightful. 

The water is of a light green color for ten or twenty 
rods ; then " deeply, darkly, beautifully blue." No fish 
can live in it; no frog abides it; few birds are ev^er 
seen dipping into it. The rugged mountains in and 
about it — ^just such scarped and seamed and gullied pre- 
cipices as I have been describing ever since I reached 
Denver — have a little fir and cotton-wood or cpiaking- 
asp in their deeper ravines or behind their taller clifis, 
but look bare and desolate to the casual observer; and 
these cut the lake into sections and hide most of it from 
view. Probably, less than a third of it is visible from 
any single point. But this suffices. 



234 SALT LAKE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



LIFE IN UTAH. 

These Mormons are in the main an industrious, frugal, 
hard-working people. Few of them are habitual idlers ; 
few live by professions or pursuits that require no phy- 
sical exertion. They make work for but few lawyers — 
I know but four among them — their differences and 
disputes are usually settled in and by the church ; they 
have no female outcasts, few doctors, and pay no salaries 
to their preachers — at least, the leaders say so. But a 
small portion of them use tea and coffee. Formerly 
they drank little or no liquor ; but, since the army came 
in last year, money and whisky have both been more 
abundant, and now they drink considerably. More 
than a thousand barrels of whisky have been sold in this 
city within the last year, at an average of not less than 
eight dollars per gallon, making the total cost to consu- 
mers over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, 
whereof the Mormons have paid at least half. If they 
had thrown instead, one hundred and Mtj thousand dol- 
lars in hard cash into the deej)est part of Salt Lake, it 
would have been far better for them. The appetite they 
are acquiring or renewing will cling to them after the 
army and its influx of cash shall have departed ; and 
Saints who now drink a little will find themselves as 
thirsty as their valley, before they suspect that they care 
anything for liquor. As yet, I believe, they have few 
or no drunkards ; but there is nothing more deceitful 
than the appetite for liquor. Utah has not a single ex- 
port of any kind ; the army now supplies her with cash ; 
when that is gone, her people will see harder times. She 



SALT LAKE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 227 

ought to manufacture almost everything she consumes, 
or foreign debt will overwhelm her. Yet, up to this 
hour, her manufacturing energies have been most un- 
happily directed. Some two hundred thousand dollars 
was expended in preparations for iron making at a place 
called Cedar City ; but the ore, though rich, would not 
flux, and the enterprise had to be totally abandoned, 
leaving the capital a dead loss. Wood and flax can be 
grown here cheaply and abundantly ; yet, owing to the 
troubles last year, no spinning and weaving machinery 
has yet been put in operation ; I believe some is now 
coming up from St. Louis. An attempt to grow cotton 
is likely to prove a failure, as might have been pre- 
dicted. The winters are long and cold here for the lati- 
tude, and the Saints must make cloth or shiver. I trust 
they will soon be able to clothe themselves. 

Sugar is another necessary of life which they have 
had bad luck with. They can grow the beet very well, 
but it is said to yield little or no sugar— because, it is 
supposed, of an excess of alkali in the soil. The sorg- 
hum has not yet been turned to much account, but it is 
to be. Common brown sugar sells here at sixty cents 
per pound ; coflPee about the same ; in the newer settle- 
ments, they are of course still higher. All sorts of im- 
ported goods cost twice to six or eight times their prices 
in the states; even quack medicines (so called) and 
yellow-covered novels are sold at double the prices 
borne on their labels or covers. Consider that the peo- 
ple came hither over a thousand miles mainly of desert, 
after reaching the Missouri, which was many hundreds 
if not thousands of miles from their former homes— 






SALT LAKE AND ITS LXVIEONS. 



tliat they generally readied these valleys in the fall, 
whicli aitorded them excellent chances of starvation be- 
fore they could raise a crop — that they have been con- 
stantly infested and begged or stolen from by the Indians 
whose game they killed or scared away, and wlio feel 
that they have a right to live here so long as there are 
cattle or crops to live on — tliat these valleys are lofty, 
narrow, and parched by intense dronth from May to 
^N^oveniber — that implements and seeds are scaixiely to 
be obtained short of a three months' journey, and then 
at an enormons cost — that they have had one year of 
virtual and costly hostilities with the federal govern- 
ment, in wliich very little could be done, and improve- 
ment was out of the question — and I am amazed that so 
much has been well done here in the way of building, 
tilling, fencing, planting trees, etc. Doubtless this city 
is far ahead of any rival, being the spiritual metropolis 
and the earliest settled ; but I am assured that the valley 
of Utah Lake is better cultivated than this, though 
Provo, its county seat, is far behind this city, which, 
with its broad, regular streets, refreshed by rivulets of 
briglit, sparkling, dancing water, and shaded by rows 
of young but thrifty trees, mainly locust and bitter cot- 
ton-wood, is already more attractive to the eye than an 
average city of like size in the states. The houses (of 
adobe or merely sun-dried brick) are uniformly low and 
generally too small ; but there is seldom more than one 
family to a dwelling, and rarely but one dwelling on a 
lot of an acre and a quarter. The gardens are well 
filled with peach, apple, and other fruit trees, wliereof 
the peach already bears profusely, and the others begin 



SALT LAKE AND ITS EKVlliONS. 237 

to follow the example. Apricots and grapes are grown, 
tliongh not yet abundant ; so of strawberries. Plums 
are in profusion, and the mountain currants are large, 
abundant and very good. Many of the lots are fenced 
with cobble-stones laid in clay mortar, which seems to 
stand very well. The wall of Brigham Young's garden 
and grounds is nine or ten feet high, three feet thick at 
the base, and cost some sixty dollars per rod. Undoubt- 
edly, this people are steadily increasing in wealth and 
comfort. 

Still the average life in Utah is a hard one. Many 
more days' faithful labor are required to support a fam- 
ily here than in Kansas, or in any of the states. The 
climate is severe and capricious — now intensely hot and 
dry ; in winter cold and stormy ; and, though cattle are 
usually allowed to shirk for themselves in the valleys, 
they are apt to resent the insult by dying. Crickets 
and grasshoppers swarm in myriads, and often devour 
all before them. Wood is scarce and poor. Irrigation 
is laborious and expensive ; as yet, it has not been fovmd 
practicable to irrigate one-fourth of the arable land at 
all. Ultimately, the valleys will be generally irrigated, 
so far as water for the purpose can be obtained ; but 
this will require very costly dams and canals. Frost is 
very destructive here ; Indian corn rarely escapes it 
wholly, and wheat often suffers from it. Wheat, oats, 
corn, barley, rye, are grown at about equal cost per 
bushel — two dollars may be taken as their average price ; 
the wheat crop is usually heavy, though this year it 
threatens to be relatively light. I estimate that one 
hundred and fifty days' faithful labor in Kansas will 



238 SAJLT LAKE ANTt ITS ENVLKONS. 

produce as large an aggregate of the necessaries of life 
— food, clothing, fuel — as three hundred just such days' 
work in Utah. Hence, the adults here generally wear 
a toil-worn, anxious look, and many of them are older 
in frame than in years. I ardently hope it may not 
always be thus. 

POLYGAMY. 

I do not believe the plural-wife system can long en- 
dure ; yet almost every man with whom I converse on 
the subject, seems intensely, fanatically devoted to it, 
deeming this the choicest of his earthly blessings. 
"With the women, I am confident it is otherwise ; and I 
watched their faces as Elder Taylor, at a social gather- 
ing on Saturday night, was expatiating humorously on 
this feature of the Mormon system, to the great delight 
of the men ; but not one responsive smile did I see on 
the face of a woman. On the contrary, I thought they 
seemed generally to wish the subject passed over in 
silence. Fanaticism, and a belief that we are God's 
especial, exclusive favorites, will carry most of us a 
great way ; but the natural instinct in every woman's 
breast must teach her that to be some man's third or 
fourth wife is to be no wife at all. I asked my next 
neighbor the name of a fair, young girl who sat some 
distance from us with a babe on her knee. " That is 
one of Judge Smith's ladies," was his quiet, matter-of- 
course answer. I need hardly say that no woman spoke 
publicly on that occasion — I believe none ever speaks 
in a Mormon assemblage — and I shall not ask any one 
her private opinion of polygamy ; but 1 think I can 
read an unfavorable one on many faces. 



SALT LAKE AND ITS ENYIKONS. 239 

Yet polygamy is one main pillar of the Mormon 
clmrcli. He who has two or more wives rarely aposta- 
tizes, as he could hardly remain here in safety and com- 
fort as an apostate, and dare not take his wives else- 
where. I have heard of but a single instance in which 
a man with three wives renounced Mormonism and left 
for California, where he experienced no difficulty; 
"for" said my informant (a woman, no longer a Mor- 
mon,) " he introduced his two younger wives (girls of 
nineteen and fourteen) as his daughters, and married 
them both off in the course of six weeks." 

I am assured by Gentiles that there is a large busi- 
ness done here in unmarrjing as well as in marrying ; 
some of them assure me that the church exacts a fee of 
ten dollars on the marriage of each wife after the first, 
but charges a still heavier fee for divorcing. I do not 
know that this is true, and I suspect my informants 
were no wiser in the premises than I am. But it cer- 
tainly looks to me as though a rich dignitary in the 
church has a freer and fuller range for the selection of 
his sixth or eighth wife than a poor young man of ordi- 
nary standing has for choosing his first. And I infer 
that the more sharp-sighted young men will not always 
be content with this. 

Since the foregoing was written, I have enjoyed op- 
portunities for visiting Mormons, and studying Mor- 
monism, in the home of its votaries, and of discussing 
with them in the freedom of social intercourse, what 
the outside world regards as the distinguishing feature 
of their faith and polity. In one instance, a veteran 



240 SALT LAKE A^^D ITS ENVIRONS. 

apostle of die faith, having first introduced to me, a 
worthy matron of fifty-five or sixty — the wife of his 
youth, and the mother of his grown-up sons — as Mrs. T., 
soon after introduced a young and winning lady of per- 
haps twenty-five summers, in these words: "Here is 
another Mrs. T." This lady is a recent emigrant from 
our state, of more than average powers of mind and 
graces of person, who came here with her father, as a 
convert, a little over a year ago, and has been the sixth 
wife of Mr. T. since a few weeks after her arrival. (The 
intermediate four wives of Elder T. live on a farm or 
farms some miles distant). The manner of the husband 
was perfectly unconstrained and ofi'-hand throughout ; 
but I could not well be mistaken in my conviction that 
both ladies failed to conceal dissatisfaction with their 
position in the eyes of their visitor, and of the world. 
They seemed to feel that it needed vindication. Their 
manner toward each other was most cordial and sisterly 
— sincerely so, I doubt not — but this is by no means 
the rule. A Gentile friend, whose duties require him 
to travel widely over the territory, informs me that he 
has repeatedly stopped with a bishop, some hundred 
miles south of this, whose two wives he has never known 
to address each other, nor evince the slightest cordiality, 
during the hours he has spent in their society. The 
bishop's house consists of two rooms; and when my 
informant staid there with a Gentile friend, the l)isliop 
being absent, one wife slept in the same apartment with 
them rather than in that occupied by her double. I 
presume that an extreme case, but the spirit which im- 
pels it is not unusual. I met this evening a large party 



SALT LAKE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 241 

of young people, consisting in nearly equal numbers of 
husbands and wives; bat no husband was attended by 
more than one wife, and no gentleman admitted or im- 
plied, in our repeated and animated discussions of 
polygamy, that Ti6 had more than one wife. And I was 
again struck by the circumstance that here, as hereto- 
fore, no woman indicated, by word or look, her approval 
of any arguments in favor of polygamy. That many 
women acquiesce in it as an ordinance of God, and have 
been drilled into a mechanical assent of the logic by 
which it is upheld, I believe ; but that there is not a 
woman in Utah who does not in her heart wish that 
God had not ordained it, I am confident. And quite a 
number of the young men treat it in conversation as a 
temporary or experimental arrangement, which is to be 
sustained or put aside as experience shall demonstrate 
its utility or mischief. One old Mormon farmer, with 
whom I discussed the matter privately, admitted that 
it was impossible for a poor working-man to have a 
well-ordered, well-governed household, where his chil- 
dren had two or more living mothers occupying the 
same ordinary dwelling. On the whole, I conclude that 
polygamy, as it was a graft on the original stock of 
Mormonism, will be outlived by the root — that there 
will be a new revelation, ere many years, whereby the 
saints will be admonished to love and cherish the wives 
they already have, but not to marry any more beyond 
the natural assignment of one wife to each husband. 

I regret that I have found time and opportunity to 
visit but one of the nineteen common schools of this city. 
This was thinly attended, by children nearly all quite 
11 



242 SALT LAKE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

young, and of tlie most rndimentaiy attainments. Their 
phrenological developments were, in the average, bad ; 
I say this with freedom, since I have stated that those 
of the adults, as I noted them in the tabernacle, were 
good. But I am told that idiotic or malformed children 
are very rare, if not unknown here. The male saints 
emphasize the fact that a majority of the children born 
here are girls, holding it a proof that Providence smiles 
on their " peculiar institution ;" I, on the contrary, 
maintain that such is the case in all polygamous coun- 
tries, and proves simply a preponderance of vigor on 
the part of the mothers over that of the fathers wliere- 
ever this result is noted. I presume that a majority 
anywhere of the children of old husbands by young 
wives are girls. 

But again the wheels revolve, and my face must once 
more be turned westward. With the most hearty and 
grateful acknowledgments of the exceeding kindness and 
hospitality with which I have been treated here alike 
by Mormon and Gentile, and with barely a word of 
praise for the magnificent gardens I have been invited 
to visit — of which Brigham Young's is probably the 
most costly and eye-pleasiug, but I like Heber Kimball's 
tlie best — I bid adieu to Salt Lake City, the great mass 
of whose people, I am sure, have an unfeigned " zeal 
for God," though I must deem it "not according to 
knowlege." Long may they live to unlearn their errors, 
and enjoy the rich fruits of their industry, frugality, 
and sincere, though misguided piety ! 

Note. — An inaccurate report of some casual remarks made by me at 
the social gathering, hereinbefore alluded to, having appeared in The Valley 



SALT LAKK AND ITS ENVIRONS. '24:6 

Tan, and been wiclelj copied, I am impelled here to print these remarks 
more correctly; thoug'h, had notliing been already said on the subject, 1 
should not have deemed them worth preservation. 

The occasion was a meeting on Saturday evening, July 19 th, in a public 
hall, under the Destret X'jv:s office, of the Deseret Typographical Associa- 
tion, at which I had expected to meet ten or twelve printers, Mormon and 
Gentile; but wlierein I found myself face to face with some two hundred 
people, nearly half ladies. In response to a sentiment, in which the Art 
of Printing was honored, I spoke of the vast transformations which the 
world has witnessed since the auspicious invention of the art — the dis- 
covery of America — steam, and steamships — the steam printing press — 
the electric telegraph, etc., etc., — with the corresponding moral and intel- 
lectual growth of Christendom, the triumphs of religious liberty, the pro- 
gress made toward a general recognition of the rights of man, and the 
true theory of government, etc., etc. Speeches were also made by Elder 
John Taylor, Elder Orson Hyde, and others, all devoted in good part to 
eulogiums on Mormonism, glances at the past history of their churches, 
denunciations of their enemies, etc., etc. I think fully two hours were 
devoted to these addresses. A pause ensuing, I rose, and said : 

"The remarks of the friends who have addressed us, especially those 
which set forth the oppressions and outrages to which they have at sundry 
times and in different localities been subjected, remind me that I have 
not heard to-night, and I think I never heard, from the lips or the jour- 
nals of any of your people, one word in reprehension of that gigantic 
national crime and scandal, American chattel slavery. You speak forcibly 
of the wrongs to which your feeble brethren have from time to time been 
subjected ; but what are they all to the perpetual, the gigantic outrago 
involved in holding in abject bondage four millions of human beings? 
Tliis obstinate silence, this seeming indiflerence on your part, reflects no 
credit on your faith and morals, and I trust they will not be persisted in." 

The reponse to this appeal was made by Elder Taylor, in very nearly 
these words: 

" The subject of slavery is one on which Mr. Greeley is known to be en- 
thusiastic, as we are on the subject of our religion. We cannot help 
speaking of our religion at every opportunity, as he cannot help speaking 
of slaver}'. Those who do not relisli this or that topic, must excuse its 
introduction." [I give the import, not the exact words of the Elder's re- 
marks.] 

At a later hour — as late as 11 o'clock, when many were impatient for 
adjournment to supper — one whose name I did not learn, rose and ex- 



244: SALT LAKE AND ITS ENYIKOKS. 

pressed a desire that I should make a speech, setting forth my views of 
Woman's Eights I A murmur of "Too late," "Not time," etc., being 
heard, I said: 

" Mr. President, I can make the speech our friend requires in just one 
minute. I hold it the right of every woman to do any and every thing 
that she can do well, provided it ought to be done. If it ought not to be 
done at all, or if she cannot do it, then she has no right to do it; but if it 
ought to be done, and she can do it, then her right to do it is, to my mind, 
indisputable. And that is all that I have to sa}^, now or ever, on the sub- 
ject of Woman's Eights." 



XXIY. 

THE ARMY IN UTAH. 

Camp Floyd, Utah, July 21, 1859. 
QxM-p Floyd, forty miles south of Salt Lake City, is 
located on the west side of a dry valley, perhaps ten 
miles wide by thirty miles long, separated by high hills 
from Lake Utah, some fifteen to twenty miles distant on 
the north-east. This valley would be fertile were it not 
doomed to sterility by drouth. A small stream takes its 
rise in copious springs at the foot of the western hills 
just north of the camp, but is soon drank up by the 
thirsty plain. Water in this stream, and wood (low 
cedar) on the adjacent hills, probably dictated the selec- 
tion of this site for a camp ; though I believe a desire, 
if not a secret compact, to locate the troops as far as 
possible from the Mormon settlements, had an influence 
in the premises. No Mormons live in this valley nor 
within sight of it; though all the roads leading from 
Salt Lake City, as v/ell as from Provo and the other 
settlements around Lake Utah, are within a day's march 
and may be said to be commanded by the camp. The 
soil is easily pulverized when dry, and keeps the entire 
area enveloped, during summer, in a dense cloud of 
dust, visible for miles in every direction. I saw it when 
eight miles away, as I came down from Salt Lake City 
yesterday. We passed few houses on the way ; but a 
distillery and a brewery were among them. We crossed 



246 THE AKMY IN UTAH. 

the Jordan by fording, at a point seven or eight miles 
from tlie I^ake, and twenty-five to thirty from Salt Lake 
City. The stream is here swift aiid strong, but hardly 
thirty inches deep, and not more than thirty yards 
wide. "VYe passed within sight of Prove, but several 
miles from it. We j^assed one spring on the route, and 
two or three brooks running from the high-steep moun- 
tains on the east. The drouth was intense, and seemed 
habitual in summer ; there was no cultivation nor indus- 
try of any so]*t on our road, save within twenty miles of 
Salt Lake City. 

The camp is formed of low and neat adobe houses, 
generally small. I presume there are three or four hun- 
dred of them — enough, at all events, to make six or 
eight Kansas cities. " Frogtown " is a satellite, or 
suburb, wdience grog and other luxuries (including exe- 
crable whisky at about ten dollars per gallon) are dis- 
pensed to thirsty soldiers who have not already drank 
up more than their pay amounts to. Tlie valley is 
covered with sage-bush and grease-wood, as usual ; but 
the camp has been freed from these, and is mainly level 
as a house-floor. The adobes ware made on the spot by 
Mexicans; the boards for roofs, finishing ofif, etc., sup- 
plied by Brigham Young and his son-in-law, from tlie 
only canon opening into Salt Lake Yalley which abounds 
in timber (yellow-pine, I believe,) fit for sawing. The 
territorial legislature — (which is another name for " the 
church ") granted this canon to Brigham, who runs three 
saw-mills therein, at a clear profit of one hundred dollars 
or so per day. His profit on the lumber supplied to the 
camp was probably over fifty thousand dollars. The 



THE ARMY IN UTAU. 247 

price was seventy dollars per thousand feet, delivered. 
President Young assured me, witli evident self-compla- 
cenc}^, that he did not need and would not accept a dol- 
lar of salary from " the church " — he considered himself 
able to make all the money he needed by business, as 
he had made the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
worth of property he already possesses. With a legisla- 
ture ever ready to grant him such perquisites as this 
lumber canon, I should think he might. The total cost 
of this post to the government was about two hundred 
thousand dollars. 

The army in Utah has numbered three thousand five 
hundred men — I believe its present strength is but about 
three thousand. It is mainly concentrated in this camp, 
though some small detachments are engaged in survey- 
ing or opening roads, guarding herds, etc., in diflferent 
parts of tlie territory. 1 presume this is still the largest 
regular force ever concentrated upon the soil of our 
country in time of peace. It consists of the 5th, Yth 
and 10th regiments of infantry, a battalion of light 
artillery, and two or three companies of dragoons. I 
met, between Bridger and Ham's Fork, a considerable 
force of d raccoons o;oino^ down. 

Let us briefly consider the history and position of this 
little army : 

In the earlier half of 1857, it was concentrated in 
Kansas ; late in that year, the several regiments com- 
posing it were severally put in march toward the Eocky 
Mountains. The Mormons soon full learned that this 
band was to be launched against them, and at once pre- 
pared to give it a warm reception ; the army had no 



248 THE AKMY IN UTAH. 

information on tlie subject, save general report. De- 
tained in Kansas to give effect to Governor Wallver's 
electioneering quackeries, it was at length sent on its 
way at a season too late to allow it to reach Salt Lake 
before winter. ISTo commander was sent with it ; Gen- 
eral Harney was announced as its chief, but has not 
even yet joined it. It was thus dispatched on a long 
and difficult expedition, in detachments, without a chief, 
without orders, without any clear idea of its object or 
destination. Entering Utah thus as no army, but as a 
number of separate, straggling detachments, neither of 
wdiicli was ordered to protect the supply-train, which 
followed one or two marches behind them, the soldiers 
had the mortification to learn, about the first of Octo- 
ber, that those supply-trains, witliout even an armed 
corporal's guard in their vicinity, had been surprised 
and burnt by a Mormon band, who thus in eff'ect made 
war on the United States. Indignantly, but still witli- 
out a leader and without definite orders, the army strug- 
gled on to Bridger, one hundred and thirteen miles from 
Salt Lake, which the Mormons abandoned on its ap- 
proach. Bridger is many thousand feet above the sea 
level, and the ground was here so buried in snow that 
its gaunt animals died by hundreds, and the residue 
were unable to drag the baggage over the rivers and 
steep mountains which still sej^arated it from Salt Lake. 
So the regiments halted, built huts to shelter themselves 
from the winter's inclemenc}^, and lived through the 
snowy season as they might on a half allowance of 
beef from their lean, gristly animals, without salt. 
Spring at length came; the order to march, long 



THE ARMY IN UTAH. 24:9 

lioped and impatiently waited foi*, was giv^eii ; tliey had 
been promised a warm reception in tlie narrow deliles 
of Echo Canon by Lieutenant-General Wells and his 
Mormon host, and they eagerly courted that reception. 
If General Wells w^ere able, as he boasted, to send them 
to the right abont, they would have nothing to do but 
to go. They had grown rusty from inaction, and stood 
ready to be polished, even by so rough an implement as 
General Wells. But news came that the whole affair 
had been somehow arranged — that Colonel Kane, Brig- 
ham Young, and Governor Cumming had fixed matters 
so that there would be no fighting — not even further 
train-burning. Yet the Mormons fled from Salt Lake 
City in anticipation of their entering it; they were 
somehow, required to encamp as far from the Mormon 
settlements as possible ; and they have ever since been 
treated by the federal executive as though they had 
volunteered to come here in defiance of, rather than in 
obedience to, that executive's own orders. 

Whether truly or falsely, this army, probably without 
an individual exception, undoubtingly believes the Mor- 
mons as a body to be traitors to the Union and its 
government, inflexibly intent on establishing here a 
power which shall be at first independent of, and ulti- 
mately dominant over, that of the United States. They 
believe that the ostentatious, defiant refusal of Brigham 
Young, in 1857, to surrender the territorial governor- 
ship, and his declaration that he would hold that j)ost 
until God Almighty should tell him to give it up, were 
but the natural development of a polity which looks to 
the subjugation of all earthly kingdoms, states, empires, 
11* 



250 THE ARMY IN UTAH. 

sovereignties, to a rule nominally theocratic, but practi- 
cally autocratic, with Brigham Young or his designated 
successor as despot. They liold that the instinct of self- 
preservation, the spirit of that requirement of the Fede- 
ral Constitution which enjoins that each state shall be 
guaranteed a republican form of government, cry out 
against such a despotism, and demand its overthrow. 

The army undoubtingly and universally believes that 
Mormonism is, at least on the part of the master spirits 
of *' the church," an organized, secret, treasonable con- 
spiracy to extend the power, increase the wealth, and 
gratify the lecherous appetites of those leaders, who are 
using the forms and terms of religion to mask and shield 
systematic adultery, perjury, counterfeiting, robbery, 
treason, and even murder. It points to the w^holesale 
massacre at Mountain-meadows, the murder of the Par- 
rishes, and a hundred more such, as instances of Mor- 
mon assassination for the good of the church, the chas- 
tisement of its enemies, or the aggrandizement of its 
leading members — to the impossibility of bringing the 
perpetrators of these crimes to justice, to the territorial 
laws of Utah which empower Mormon functionaries to 
select the grand and petit jurors even for the United 
States courts, and impose qualifications which in effect 
secure the exclusion of all but Mormons from the jury- 
box, and to the uniform refusal of those jurors to indict 
or convict those who have committed crimes in the in- 
terest of Mormonism,^ as proof positive that all at- 

* Judge Cradlebaugh asserts that on the hst of jurors recently imposed 
on him for the investigation at Provo of the Parrish and other murders, 
he knows there were not less than nine leading participants in those 
murders. 



THE AEMY IK UTAH. 251 

tempts to punish Mormon criminals by llormon jurors 
jind officers must ever prove abortive, and demands of 
tlie federal government that it shall devise and put in 
execution some remedy for this unbearable impunity to 
crime. It is uniformly believed in camp that not less 
tlian seventy-five distinct instances of murder by Mor- 
mons because of apostac}^, or some other foi'ui of hos- 
tility to " the church," or mainly for the sake of plun- 
der, are known to the authorities here, and that there 
is no shadow of hope that one of the perpetrators will 
ever be brought to justice under the sway of Mormon 
" popular sovereignty" as now established in this terri- 
tory. The army, therefore, turns an anxious eye to 
"Washington, and strains its ear to hear what remedy is 
to be applied. 

Manifestly, the recent responses from that quarter 
are not calculated to allay this anxiety. The official 
rebuke recently and publicly given to the federal judges 
here, for employing detachments of troops to arrest and 
hold securely Mormons accused of capital crime, elicits 
low mutterings of dissatisfaction from some, with a 
grave silence on the part of many whom discipline 
restrains fi*om speaking. As the recent orders from 
Washington are understood here, no employment of 
federal trooj)s to arrest or secure persons charged with 
or even convicted of crime is allowed, except where the 
civil power (intensely Jlormon) shall have certified that 
the execution of process is resisted by a force which it 
cannot overcome by means of a civil posse. How op- 
posite this is to the orders given and obeyed in the 
fugitive slave cases at Boston, etc., need hardly be in- 
dicated. 



252 THE AKMY IN UTAH. 

Yeiy general, then, is tlie inqnirj in the army, Why 
were we sent here? and why are we kept here? What 
good can our remaining do? What mischief can it 
prevent ? A fettered, suspected, watched, distrusted 
army — an army which must do nothing — must not even 
be asked to do anything in any probable contingency — 
what purpose does it subserve beyond enriching con- 
tractors and Mormon magnates at its own cost and that 
of the federal treasury ? Every article eaten, drank, 
worn, or in any manner bought by the soldiers, costs 
three to ten times its value in the states ; part of this 
extra cost falls on the treasury, tlie residue on the troops 
individually. Their position here is an irksome one ; 
their comforts few ; home, family, friends are far away. 
If the policy now pursued is to prevail, they cannot be 
needed in this territory. Why, then, are they kept 
here ? Brigham Young will contract, and make money 
by conti'acting, to put down all resistance to this policy 
at one-tenth the cost of keeping the army here : why, 
then, not withdraw it ? 

I have not so bad an opinion of the Mormons as that 
entertained by the army. While I consider the Mor- 
mon religion, so called, a delusion and a blight, I believe 
many of its devoted adherents, including most of those 
I have met, to be pure-minded, well-meaning people ; 
and I do not believe that Mormons generally delight in 
plunder or murder, though the testimony in the Moun- 
tain-meadows, Parrish, and one^or two other cases, is 
certainly staggering. But I concur entirely in the con- 
viction of the army, that there is no use in its retention 
here undei* existing orders and circumstances, and that 



THE AKMT IN" UTAH. 253 

three or four companies of dragoons wonld answer every 
purpose of this large and costly concentration of troops. 
The ai-my would cost less almost anywhere else, and 
could not anywhere be less useful. 

A suspicion that it is kept here to answer private 
pecuniary ends is widely entertained. It is known that 
vast sums have been made out of its transportation by 
favored contractors. Take a single instance already 
quite notorious: twenty-two cents per pound is paid 
for the transportation of all provisions, munitions, etc., 
from Leavenworth to this point. The great contractors 
were allowed this for transporting this year's supply 
of flour. By a little dexterous management at Wash- 
ington, they were next allowed to furnish the flour here 
■ — Utah flour — being paid their twenty-two cents per 
pound for transportation, in addition to the prime cost 
on the Missouri. As Utah has a better soil for growing 
wheat than almost anything else, they had no difficulty 
in sub-letting this contract at seven cents per pound 
net, making a clear profit of one hundred and seventy 
thousand dollars on the contract, without risking 
a dollar, or lifting a finger. Of course, I expect con- 
tractors to bargain for themselves, not for the govern- 
ment, but somebody is well paid for taking care of the 
public's interest in such matters. Has he done his 
duty ? 

Again, pursuant to a recent order from Washington, 
the Assistant Quartermaster-General here is now selling 
by auction some two thousand mules — about two-thirds 
of all the government owns in this territory. These 
mules cost one hundred and seventy-five dollars each, 



254 THE ARMY IN UTAH. 

and are worth to day one hundred and twenty-five to 
one hundred and fifty dolhirs. I attended the sale for 
an hour or so this forenoon ; the range of prices was 
from sixty to one hundred and fifteen dollars ; the aver- 
age of the seven hundred aL'eadj^ sold about seventy- 
five dollars. Had these mules been taken to California, 
and there properly advertised and sold, they would have 
brought nearly cost ; even at Leavenworth, they must 
have sold for at least one hundred thousand dollars more 
than here, where there is practically no demand and no 
competition for such an immense herd ; and, after every 
Mormon, who can raise a hundred dollars or over, shall 
have supplied himself with a span of mules for half 
tlieir value, one or two speculators will make as much as 
they please, while the dead loss to the people will be at 
least one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Nobody 
here has recommended the sale of these mules ; the}^ 
were being herded, under the care of detachments of the 
army, at no cost but for herdsmen, and they could have 
been kept through next winter, in secluded mountain 
valleys, at a cost of about ten dollars per head ; whereas 
the army can never move without purchasing an equal 
number; and they can neither be bought here nor 
brought here for two hundred thousand dollars more 
than these animals are now fetching. So^nebody^s in- 
terest is subserved by this sale ; but it is certainly not 
that of the army nor of the people. The order is to sell 
seven hundred wagon's as well ; but these would not 
bring thirty dollars each, while they cost at least one 
hundred and thirty, and could not be replaced when 
wanted even for that, while the army cannot move 



THE AKMY IN UTAH. 2ob 

without tliem, and keeping them costs absolutely noth- 
ing. Who issues such orders as this, and for whose 
benefit? 

Look at another feature of tliis transaction. There is 
at this moment a large amount due to ofiicers and sol- 
diers of this army as pay, in sums of forty to five hun< 
dred dollars each. Many of those to whom this money 
is due would very much like to take mules in part-pay- 
ment, either to use while here, to sell again, or to bear 
them and their baggage to California, or back to the 
Missouri, on the approaching expiration of their terms 
of enlistment. In many instances, two soldiers would 
doubtless club to buy a mule on which to pack their 
blankets, etc., whenever their time is out. Hundreds 
of mules would thus have been bought, and the pro- 
ceeds of the sale considerably augmented, if the govern- 
ment, by its functionaries, had consented to receive its 
own honest debts in payment. But no! on some ri- 
diculous pretense of ill-blood between tlie pay and the 
subsistence bureaux of the War department, this is 
refused — it would be too much trouble to take certifi- 
cates of soldiers' pay actually due in payment for these 
mules ; so the ofiicers and soldiers must purchase of 
speculators at double price, or go without, and the 
mules be sold for far less than they would have brought, 
if those who must have them had been enabled to bid 
directly for them. Two or three sjDeculators reap a 
harvest here at the sore cost of the soldiers and the 
treasury. 

But it will be said that forage is dear in Utah. It 
would suffice to answer that idle mules obtain, save in 



^.o6 THE AKMY IN UlAH. 

winter, only grass growing on the public lands, which 
may as well be eaten in part by government mules as 
all by those of the Mormon squatters. But let us see 
how it costs so much. There have recently been re- 
ceived here thirty thousand bushels of corn from the 
states at a net cost, including transportation, of three 
hundred and forty thousand dollars, or over eleven dol- 
lare per bushel. 'No requisition was ever made for this 
corn, which could have been bought here, delivered, 
for two dollars per bushel, or sixty thousand dollars in 
all. The dead loss to the treasury on this corn is two 
hundred and eighty thousand dollars, even supposing 
that the service required it at all. Somebody makes a 
good thing of wagoning this corn from the Missouri at 
over ten dollars a bushel. Who believes that said some- 
body has not influential and thrifty connections inside 
of the War department ? 

I will not pursue this exposition ; Congress may. 

Let me now give a sample of retrenchment in the 
public service in this quarter : 

The mail from Missouri to Salt Lake has hitherto 
been carried weekly in good six-mule wagons ; the con- 
tract time being twenty-two days. The importance of 
frequent and regular communication with head-quarters, 
at least so long as a large army is retained here at a 
heavy extra cost, and because of some presumed public 
necessity is evident. Yet the new Postmaster-General 
has cut down the mail-service on this important central 
route from weekly to semi-monthly. But the contrac- 
tors, wlio are obliged to run their stages weekly because 
of their passenger business, and because they have to 



THE AKMT IN UTAH. 257 

keep their stock and pay their men, whether they work 
or ph\y, find that they cannot carry the mail every 
other week so cheaply as they can every week. Foi 
instance, a mail from the states now often consists of 
twelve to sixteen heavy sacks (most of them filled with 
franked documents), weighing as many hundred pounds. 
Double this, and no six-mule team would draw it at the 
requisite pace, and no mail-wagoii stand the jerks and 
jolts of an unmade road. So they say, "please let us 
carry the mail weekly, though you only pay us for car- 
rying it semi-monthly." But no! this is strictly for- 
bidden ! The post-master at Salt Lake has express writ- 
ten orders to refuse it, and of course he at St. Joseph 
also. And thus all this central region, embracing, at 
least a dozen important military posts, and countless 
Indian agencies, is reduced to a semi-monthly mail-ser- 
vice, though the contractor would gladly make it weekly 
at the same price ! 



XXY. 

ROM SALT LAKE TO CARSON VALLEY. 

Placeryille, Cal., July 31, 1859. 
There are two emigrant trails from Salt Lake City to 
Carson Yalley and the pass thence into California — 
the older and more favored, starts north-west from the 
Mormon Zlon, passes north and west of Salt Lake, 
crossing Weber and Bear Rivers near their mouths, wdth 
several small creeks, and gradually veering west and 
south-west so as to strike the head springs of the Hum- 
boldt, which stream it follows more than three hundred 
miles to its " sink," within a hundred miles of the east- 
ern Base of the Sierra Xevada. The other route leaves 
the Mormon capital in a south-westerly direction, touches 
Lake Utah on the north, passes west of that Lake 
through Provo, and thence southerly through Fillmore, 
the nominal capital of the territory, and so down by 
Soyier River and Lake nearly to the southern boundary 
of Utah, whence it stretches west, nearly upon the 
southern rim of the Great Basin, on which are the 
" Mountain-Meadow^s," where a large emigrant party 
from Arkansas w^as so atrociously massacred in 1857. 
Then.ce this trail turns north-w^est to hit the sink of Car- 
son River. (I can get no tolerable map of Utah, and 
the above may not be entirely correct, but is nearly so.) 
It will be seen that each of these routes must necessarily 
be very circuitous, and that almost, if not quite half 



FKOM SALT LAKE TO CAKSON VALLEY. 259 

the territory lies between them. So, last year, Major 
Chorpeiiing, the contractor for cari-ying the Salt Lake 
and California Mail, resolved to seek a shorter route 
midway between them, which he partially succeeded in 
establishing. This route passes Camp Floyd, forty-three 
miles south of Salt Lake City, and thence strikes west 
south-west through " the Desert," so called, which it 
penetrates for one hundred and fifty miles or more ; 
thence turning north-west to reach and follow the origi- 
nal emigrant and mail-route down the Humboldt. Even 
thus, it is somewhat shorter than any other traveled route 
from Salt Lake to Carson Yalley, but still very tortuous, 
and at least one hundred and fifty miles longer than it 
should be. Capt. Simpson, of the U. S. Topographical 
Corps, has recently made his way quite through the desert, 
on a route which makes the distance only live hundred 
and sixty-one miles from Camp Floyd to Carson Yalley ; 
whereas it is six hundred and seventy by the present 
mail-route, and further by any other. Capt. Simpson is 
now engaged in further surveys, w^hereby he hopes* to 
shorten the distance from Salt Lake City to Genoa, near 
the head of Carson Yalley, to about five hundred and fif- 
ty miles ; and two of Major Chorpening's superintendents 
are now examining the new portion of this route, in- 
tending to recommend a transfer of the mail to it should 
they deem it practicable for wagons, and not hopelessly 
destitute of grass and water. I trust they will find it 



* These hopes have since been fully realized. The new direct central 
route is not only one hundred miles shorter, but is said to be better sup- 
plied with grass and water, than that I traveled. 



260 FROM SALT LAKE TO CARSOK VALLEY. 

passable; meantime, let me give some account of so 
much of it as I have traveled, as I am not aware that 
an}^ is yet extant. 

I left Camp Floyd in the mail-wagon from Salt Lake 
City, on the morning of Thursday, July 21st, pursuing 
a south-west course over a low mountain pass. Twen- 
ty miles on, we found a small brook making from the 
mountains soutli of us across a thirsty plain, which, I 
presume, soon drank it up. The vegetation was the 
same eternal sage-bush and grease-wood, which I am 
tired of mentioning, but which, together or separately, 
cover two-thirds of all the vast region between the 
Rocky Mountains aud the Sierra I^evada. In places, 
the sage-bush, for miles in extent, is dead and withering, 
seemingly parched up by the all -pervading drouth ; the 
grease- wood is either hardier, or chooses its ground 
more judiciously; for it is rarely found dead by acres. 
There is some bunch-grass on the sides of two or three 
mountains, but very little of aught that can be relied 
on to sustain human or animal life. The mountains and 
plains seem to divide the ground very fairly between 
them — the soil of both being mainly a white clay ; 
while the former have that creased, gullied, washed- 
away appearance, which I have repeatedly noticed. 
Sometimes they are nearly perpendicular on one or 
more sides, like the l^uttes further east; but usually 
they can be ascended on any side, and seem to rise 
but one to three thousand feet above the plains at 
their bases. These plains appear from a distance to be 
level as so many tables ; but, on attempting to cross 
them in a wagon, you find them creased and scored by 



FEOM SALT LAKE TO CAESON VALLEY. 261 

innumerable water-courses, now dry, but showing that, 
in the wet season, water is most abundant here. In 
most instances, a gradual slope of a mile or two inter- 
venes between the foot of a mountain and th.e adjacent 
plain or valley ; this slope is apt to be intensely dry, 
sterile, and covered with dead or dying sage-bush. I 
judge these slopes to be composed of the rocky, gravel- 
ly material of the mountains, from which the lighter 
clay has been washed out and carried off. They often 
seem to be composed almost wholly of small bits of 
rock. The valleys or plains are from five to fifteen 
miles across, though they seem, in the clear, dry atmos- 
phere of Utah, not half so much. Tliese plains have 
an imperceptible slope to some point near their respect- 
ive centers, where a wider water-course runs toward 
some adjacent valley ; in some cases, a marsh or naked 
space near the center indicates that the surplus water 
from the surrounding mountains forms here in winter 
and spring a petty, shallow lake, which the hot suns 
soon evaporate or the thirsty soil absorbs. The moun- 
tains are thinly belted or dotted with low, scrubby ce- 
dar, seldom ten feet high, and often nearly as far across 
the green top formed by three or four stalks or stems 
starting from a common root. The mountains seem to 
have no particular, or rather no general direction ; some 
of the valleys being nearly or quite surrounded by 
them. Even in the wettest seasons, I cannot perceive 
that this region sends off any surplus water to Salt Lake 
or any other general reservoir. Such is the face of the 
country for some two hundred miles directly south-west 
of Camp Floyd. 



262 FROM SALT LAKE TO (\\R.«^()N VALLEY. 

We found 51 station, a change of horses, and sometliing 
that was called dinner, on the little stream I have al- 
ready mentioned, and halted here, twenty miles or more 
from Camp Floyd. In the afternoon, we came on, over 
a higher, rockier mountain-pass and a far rougher road, 
to the next station — Simpson's Spring, nearly fifty 
miles from Camj) Floyd — where we halted for the night. 
I fear the h.ot suns of August will dry up this spring ; 
while there is no other fit to drink for a weary distance 
south and west of this point. 

The station-keeper here gave me an incident which 
illustrates the character of the country. Some few days 
previously to our arrival, he ascertained that his oxen, 
eight in number, had gone off, two or three nights he- 
fore, taking a southerly course ; so he mounted a horse 
and followed their trail. lie rode upon it one hundred 
miles without reaching water or overtaking the cattle, 
which had lain down but once since they started, and 
were still a day's journey ahead of him. If he continued 
the pursuit his horse must die of thirst, and then he too 
must perish ; so he turned about and left his oxen to die 
in the desert or be found and eaten by savages. There was 
not a shadow of hope that he would ever see them again. 

We had to drive the same team (mules of course) all 
next day, making fifty miles ; but we stopped to rest 
and feed them at a sub-station, only twenty miles from 
our starting-point. It was about the forlornest sj)ot 1 
ever sa-w. Though at the foot of a low mountain, there 
was no water near it ; that which w^as given our mules 
had been carted in a barrel from Simpson's Spring, 
aforesaid, and so must be for most of each year. An 



FEOM SALT LAKE TO CARSON YALLEY. 263 

attempt to sink a well at tliis point had thus far proved 
a failure. The station-keeper here lives entirely alone 
— that is, when the Indians will let him — seeing a friend- 
ly face but twice a week, when the mail-stage passes 
one way or the other. He deeply regretted his lack of 
books and newspapers; we could only give him one of 
the latter. Why do not men who contract to run mails 
through such desolate regions comprehend that their 
own interest, if no nobler consideration, should impel 
them to supply their stations with good reading matter ! 
I am quite sure that one hundred dollars spent by Major 
Chorpening in supplying two or three good journals to 
each station on his route, and in providing for their 
interchange from station to station, would save him 
more than one thousand dollars in keeping good men in 
his service, and in imbuing them with contentment and 
gratitude. So with other mail-routes through regions 
like this. 

We drove on that day thirty miles further, to Fish 
Springs station, just before reaching which we passed 
one of the salt wells which are characteristic of this 
country, though not absolutely peculiar to it. This one 
is about six or eight feet in diameter, and perhaps an 
equal distance from the surface of the surrounding 
earth to that of the water, which has a whitish green 
aspect, is intensely salt, and said to be nnfiithomable, 
with a downward suction which a man could hardly or 
not at all resist. I had no desire to try, badly as I 
needed ablution. 

Fish Springs form quite a large pool at the north end 
of a low mountain range, and send off a coj^ious stream 



264 FEOM SALT LAEE TO CARSON VALLEY. 

to be drank up in the course of three or four miles by 
the thirsty clay of the plain. The water is brackish, 
and I think siilphnrons, as that of a spring in the adja- 
cent marsh near the station clearly is. There are many 
fish in the pool and stream, and they are said to be 
good. I should have liked to verify the assertion ; and 
if they bite a hundredth part so freely as the musketoes 
do hereabout, it were an easy matter to afford the stage 
passengers here a change from their usual rations of 
pork, bread and coffee ; which, when the flour, or the 
pork, or the coffee, happens to be out, as it sometimes 
is, renders the diet unsatisfactory, even to those who 
would seem to have been seasoned to the like by a pas- 
sage across the plains and the Kocky Mountains. Fish 
Springs are just fifty miles from living water on either 
side, and the stages have to run at least ten miles out 
of their course to strike them. There is some coarse 
grass here. 

July 23^. — We traveled this forenoon over a plain 
nearly surrounded by mountains. Said j^lain is very 
level to the eye, but the rapid traveler's sense of feeling 
contradicts this, for he finds it full of dry-water-courses, 
which give him most uncomfortable jolts. Before noon, 
we came to the spot, where the stage-mules are turned 
out to feed and rest, by the side of a sink or depression 
in the plain, which is covered with coarse grass and reeds 
or bulrushes. By digging in the side of this sink, 
water has been easily obtained, but so sulphurous, and 
generally bad, as to be barely drinkable. Even the 
mules, I noticed, practice great moderation in the use 
of it. At one, we harnessed up, and were soon I'ising 



FROM SALT LAKE TO CAKSON VALLEY. 265 

over a long mountain-pass, liardlj less than ten miles 
from the level plain to its summit, where a light thun- 
der-shower — that is, a light rain with heavy thunder — 
overtook us. We drove rapidly down its western de- 
clivity, and, a little after 5, p. m., reached our next sta- 
tion in " Pleasant Valley," a broad ravine, which des- 
cends to the south-west. Here we found water — bright, 
sweet, pure, sparkling, leaping water — the first water 
fit to drink that we had reached in a hundred miles ; if 
Simpson's Spring ever dries up, the distance will then 
be at least a hundred and twenty. We were now across 
w^iat is here technically known as " the desert" — that 
is to say, we had crossed the north-east corner of it. I 
believe it extends at least two hundred miles south from 
this point, and is at least as far from east to west across 
its center. If Uncle Sam should ever sell that tract for 
one cent per acre, he will swindle the purchaser out- 
rageously. 

Let me endeavor, on quitting it, to give a clear idea 
of this desert, and thus of about half the land inclosed 
between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra l^evada — 
the other half being mainly covered by mountains and 
the narrow ravines or canons which separate them. 

The plains or valleys of Utah, then, have generally 
a soil of white clay, sometimes rocky, at others streaked 
bj sand or gravel ; but usually pure clay, save as it i< 
impregnated with some alkaline substance — usualh; 
salseratus ; but in places niter, in others, salt or sulphur. 
Sometimes, but rarely, considerable areas of this alkali 
in a nearly pure state are exposed on the surface ; in 
many places, it covers the beds of shallow, dried-up 

12 



266 FEOM SALT LAKE TO CAKSON VALLEY. 

lakes, and even streams, with a whitish incrustation ; 
but it is more generally diffused through the soil, and 
thus impregnates the springs and streams. Irrigating 
a piece of ground, strongly imbued with alkali, will 
often bring an incrustation of it to the surface, after 
which no trouble from it is experienced in that place. 
I think the greater proportion of these plains ar valleys 
— which could easily be cleared of their grease-wood 
and sage-bush and plowed — would produce large crops 
of wheat, and of almost anything else, if they could be 
irrigated. But that can never be, unless by Artesian 
wells. But little rain falls in summer, and that little is 
speedily evaporated from the hot earth, leaving the clay 
as thirsty as ever. I fear it is mainly doomed to per- 
petual barrenness. 

The mountains which divide these plains exude very 
little water. Wherever a range is single — that is, with 
a broad valley each side of it — it is apt to be not more 
than one to three thousand feet high, and so to be early 
denuded of snow ; its springs are few and generally 
feeble, and their waters are often dried up before trick- 
ling half way down the sides of the mountain which 
gave them birth. If a spring is so copious, or so many 
are speedily combined, a's to form a considerable stream, 
they may reach the plain; but only to be speedily 
drank up by its scorched surface. Cultivation, there- 
fore, save in a very few narrow spots, seems here im- 
possible. 

But wherever a chaos or jumble of mountains is pre- 
sented — still more, where mountains rise behind moun- 
tains, range behind range, rank above rank, till the 



FROM SALT LAKE TO CAKSON VALLEY. 267 

summits of the farthest that may be seen are flecked 
with snow — there the case is altered. Springs are there 
more abundant and more copious; the gradual melting 
of the snows swells the rivulets formed by the speedy 
meeting of their waters ; and thus considerable brooks 
are formed and poured down upon the subjacent plains, 
as we observe in and around Salt Lake City, and north 
and west of Lake Utah. Thus are formed Bear and 
Weber Kivers ; such, I believe, is the origin of the 
Humboldt. But such instances are far too rare in Utah. 
From the Jordan to the LIumboldt is about three hun- 
dred and fifty miles by the route I traveled, and in all 
that distance the brooks and rills I crossed or saw, could 
they be collected into one channel, would barely forai a 
decent mill-stream. I thence traveled down the south 
side of the Humboldt for two hundred and twenty-five 
miles, and in all that distance not more than two tribu- 
taries come in on that side, and their united currents 
would barely suffice to turn a grindstone. This desola- 
tion seems therefore irredeemable. 

The mountains of central Utah are less hopeless than 
the Plains. Contrary to my former impression, they 
are fairly wooded ; by which I mean that wood is pro- 
curable on them at almost any point. This wood is for 
the most part cedar, six to ten feet high, and from a foot 
downward in diameter near the ground. White pines 
of like size, and of equally scrubby character, are quite 
common in the western part of the mountains I trav- 
ersed, and there is some balsam-fir in the deeper canons, 
which attains a diameter of fifteen to twenty inches, 
and a height of forty to sixty feet. Of this fir, several 



268 FROM SALT LAKE TO CAESON YALLET. 

of the mail-station cabins are constructed ; in Ruby 
Yalley, they have one of red or Indian-pine ; but they 
are quite commonly built of stones and mud. One on 
the Humboldt is built of dwarf- willow canes or wattles 
— ^not one any where of cedar nor of the dwarfed white- 
pine of this region, l^either could be made to answer. 

But I must hurry on. At Pleasant Yalley, we turned 
north-west up a broad ravine, and thenceforth held that 
general course to reach the Humboldt, instead of still 
making west south-west directly toward Carson Yalle}^, 
as it is proposed hereafter to do if that be found practi- 
cable. For the next one hundred and forty miles or 
thereabouts, our trail led us mainly up one side of a 
mountain range and down the other, thence across a 
valley of some ten miles in width to the foot of another 
chain, and so on. As the train naturally runs up the 
deepest canons and over the lowest passes, the ascent 
and descent are rarely abrupt for any considerable dis- 
tance, and we seldom lacked water ; but our route was 
the most devious imaginable — veering from north-east 
on one hand to south on the other. Sometimes, two or 
three hundred square miles were visible at a glance — 
the mountain-sides half covered with cedar and pine, 
with some dwarf-willdws and rose-bushes often fringing 
their slender rivulets ; but not a tree other than ever- 
green in sight. There is a large, pine-leaved shrub or 
small tree which a driver termed a mountain-mahogany 
and a passenger called a red haw, growing sparingly 
among the evergreens on some mountain slopes, which 
seems about half way between a thorn-bush and an un- 
trimmed apple-tree, but nothing else deciduous above 



FROM SALT LAKE TO C ARSON VALLEY. 269 

the size of the dwarf- willow. Even tlie sage-hush and 
grease-wood appear to be evergreens. Grass is here not 
abundant but unfailing, as it must be where water is 
perennial and wood in fair supply. The plains or val- 
leys remain as further east, save that they are smaller, 
and, because of the less scanty supply of w^ater, more 
susceptible of improvement. At Shell Creek, forty-five 
miles from Pleasant Yalley, where we spent our next 
night, there is a little garden — the first I had seen since 
Camp Floyd — and at Ruby Yalley, fifty miles or so fur- 
ther on, the government has a farm in crop, intended 
for the benefit, and partly cultivated by the labor of the 
neighboring Indians. The mail-station also has its gar- 
den, and is cutting an abundance of hay. From this 
station, it is expected that the new cut-ofi", saving one 
hundred miles or more in distance to Carson Yalley, 
will be made, so soon as tliose now scrutinizing it shall 
have pronounced it practicable. 

At Euby, the stage usually stops for the night ; but 
we had been six days making rather less than three 
hundred miles, and began to grow impatient. The 
driver had his ow^n reasons for pushing on, and did so, 
over a road partly mountainous, rough and sideling; 
but, starting at eight p. m., w^e had reached the next 
(Pine Yalley) station, forty miles distant, before sun- 
rise. Here w^e were detained three or four hours for 
mules — those we should have taken being astray — but 
at nine we started with a new driver, and were soon en- 
tangled in a pole-bridge over a deep, miry stream — a 
drove of a thousand head of cattle (the first ever driven 
over this road) having recently passed, and torn the frail 



270 FROM SALT LAKE TO CARSON" VALLEY. 

bridge to pieces. Our lead-mnles went down in a pile, 
but were got up and out and the wagon ran over, after 
a delay of an hour. We soon rose from Pine Yallev 
by a long, irregular, generally moderate ascent, to a 
mountain divide, from which our trail took abruptly 
down the wildest and worst canon I ever saw traversed 
by a carriage. It is in places barely wide enough at 
bottom for a wagon, and if two should meet here it is 
scarcely possible that they should pass. The length of 
this canon is a mile and a half; the descent hardly less 
than two thousand feet ; the side of the road next to the 
water-course often far lower than the other ; the road- 
bed is often made of sharp-edged fragments of broken 
rock, hard enough to stand on, harder still to hold back 
on. The heat in this canon on a summer afternoon is 
intense, the sun being able to enter it while the wind is 
not. Two or three glorious springs aiford partial conso- 
lation to the weary, thirsty traveler. I am confident no 
passenger ever rode down this rocky ladder ; I trust 
that none will until a better road is made here ; though 
a good road in such a gulch is scarcely possible. Fifteen 
miles further, across a plain and a lower range of hills, 
brought our mail- wagon at last, about seven p. m. of its 
seventh day from Salt Lake City, to 

THE HUMBOLDT. 

I am not going to describe the route down this river, 
as it is the old emigrant-trail, repeatedly written about 
already. I only wish to record my opinion, that the 
Humboldt, all things considered, is the meanest river 
of its length on earth. Rising in the Humboldt Moun- 



FROM SALT LAKE TO CAKSON VALLEY. 271 

tains, hardly one hundred and fifty miles west of Salt 
Lake, it is at first a pure stream — or rather streams, for 
there are two main branches — but is soon corrupted by 
its alkaline surroundings, and its water, for at least the 
lower half of its course, is about the most detestable I 
ever tasted. 1 mainly chose to sufi'er thirst rather than 
drink it. Though three hundred and fifty miles in 
length, it is never more than a decent mill-stream ; I 
presume it is the only river of equal length that never 
had even a canoe launched upon its bosom. Its narrow 
bottom, or intervale, produces grass; but so coarse in 
structure, and so alkaline by impregnation, that no sen- 
sible man would let his stock eat it, if there were any 
alternative. Here, however, there is none. Cattle must 
eat this, or die — many of them eat it, and die. One of 
the most intelligent emigrants I conversed with on its 
banks informed me that he had all the grass for his 
stock mowed, as he had found by experience that his 
cattle, if grazed upon it, pulled up much of their grass 
by the roots, and these roots were far more alkaline 
than the stalks. I believe no tree of any size grows on 
this forlorn river from its forks to its mouth — I am sure 
I saw none while traversing the lower half of its course. 
Half a dozen specimens of a large, worthless shrub, 
known as bufi'alo-bush or bull-berry, with a prevalent 
fringe of willows about the proper size for a school- 
ma'am's use, comprise the entire timber of this delecta- 
ble stream, whose gad-flies, musketoes, gnats, etc., are 
so countless and so blood-thirst}^ as to allow cattle so 
unhappy as to be stationed on, or driven along this 
river, no chance to eat or sleep. Many have died this 



2T2 FKOM SALT LAKE TO CAESON VALLEY. 

season of the bad water, that would have survived the 
water, but for these execrable insects, by which the 
atmosphere, at times, is darkened. It certainly is not 
a pleasure to ride, night and day, along such a stream, 
with the heat intense, the dust a constant cloud, and 
the roads all gullied, and ground into chuck-holes ; but 
then, who would stay in such a region one moment 
longer than he must ? 

I thought I had seen barrenness before — on the upper 
course of the Republican — on the North Platte, Green 
Hiver, etc. — but I was green, if the regions washed by 
by those streams were not. Here, on the Humboldt, 
famine sits enthroned, and waves his scepter over a 
dominion expressly made for him. On the above- 
named rivers, I regarded cotton-wood with contempt ; 
here, a belt, even the narrowest fringe, of cotton-wood 
would make a comparative Eden. The sage-bush and 
grease-wood, which cover the high, parched plain on 
either side of the river's bottom, seems thinly set, with 
broad spaces of naked, shining, glaring, blinding clay 
between them ; the hills beyond, which bound the pros- 
pect, seem even more naked. ISTot a tree, and hardly 
a shrub, anywhere relieves their sterility ; not a brook, 
save one small one, runs down between them to swell 
the scanty waters of the river. As the only consider- 
able stream in the Great Basin that pursues a general 
east and west direction, the Humboldt may continue 
for years to be traveled ; but I am sure no one ever left 
it without a sense of relief and thankfulness. There 
can never be any considerable settlement here. 

After a course, at first west by south, then north by 



FROM SALT LAKE TO CARSON VALLEY. 273 

west, afterward south-west, and for the last fifty miles 
due south, the river falls into Lake Humboldt, a fine 
sheet of clear w^ater, perhaps fifteen miles in length and 
forty in circumference. I tried to obtain an approxi- 
mation to its depth, but could not; those who have 
staid beside it longest assuring me that no boat had 
ever floated upon its waters — a statement which the 
destitution of w^ood in all this region renders credible. 
I am satisfied, however, that this lake is being slowly- 
filled up from the gradual w^ashing down, and washing 
in, of the hills which approach it on the east and south, 
and that time w^ll make great changes in its configura- 
tion and the volume of its waters. 

A stream, not so copious as the river, runs from the 
lake on the south, and flows with a gentle, sluggish 
current into a large tule or reed-marsh, w^hich has no 
outlet, and is said to be but moderately salt. The lake 
water is accounted sweeter than that of the river. 
Here the Humboldt is said to shik^ like the Carson, 
Truckee and Walker, which issue from the Sierra Neva- 
da, and run eastwardly into the adjacent desert; but I 
suspect they are all drank up by evaporation and by 
the thirsty sands wdiich surround them. The Missis- 
sippi, if it ran across the Great Basin and kept clear of 
mountains, would be threatened by a similar fate. 

We reached the Sink at 6^ p. m. on Thursday, the 
29th — scarcely tw^o days from Gravelly Ford, where 
we struck the river, having in those two days traversed 
some two hundred and twenty miles of very bad and 
intensely hot, dusty road. At eight, we were ready to 
pass " the Desert " — that is, the desolate plain which 

12* 



274 FROM SALT LAKE TO CARSON VALLEY. 

separates tlie Sink of the Humboldt from that of the 
Carson. But one of our fresh mules was sick and could 
not be replaced, which made our first drive a tedious 
one, and we contrived, bj dexterous mismanagement, 
to get stuck in a bayou or back-set of the Humboldt 
Sink, where we for a while seemed likely to spend the 
night. Our lead-mules, having been mired and thrown 
down, would not pull; the sick wheeler could not. At 
length, by putting one of the leaders in his place, we 
made a start, and come through, finding the bottom 
firm and the water not deep, a yard either way from 
the place of our misadventure. By a little past mid- 
night, we were at the half-way station, where a well of 
decent brackish water has been dug, and which a drove 
of four or five hundred mules reached about the time 
we did. They stopped here to rest, however, while we 
pushed on with a fresh team — for ten miles of the way, 
over as heavy a drag of sand as I ever endured, where- 
as most of this desert is a hard, alkaline clay. By five 
A. M., after riding four days and the intervening nights 
without rest, we drew up at the station near the sink of 
the Carson. 



XXYI. 

CARSON VALLEY-THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Placerytlle, Cal., Aug. 1, 1859. 
Though the Carson sinks in or is absorbed by the 
same desert with ^he Humboldt, a glance at its worst 
estate suffices to convince the traveler, that the former 
waters bj far the more hopeful region. Large cotton- 
woods dot its banks very near its sink ; and its valley, 
wherever moist, is easily rendered productive. You feel 
that you are once more in a land where the arm of in- 
dustry need not be paralyzed by sterility, obstruction, 
and despair. 

Still, the prevalence of drouth is here a fearful fact. 
1^0 rain in summer— that is, none that can be calculated 
on, none that amounts to anything — might well appall 
the cultivator accustomed to warm, refreshing showers 
throughout the growing season. We crossed, on our 
rapid ride np the Carson, a single high plain twenty-six 
miles long and from six to twelve wide, which drouth 
alone dooms to sage-bush, sterility, and worthlessness. 
Two or three other plains or high intervales further up 
are nearly as scorched and barren. All these may be 
rendered most productive by irrigation, and here is the 
water at hand. If the new gold mines in this valley 
shall ultimately justify their present promise, a very 
large demand for vegetable food will speedily spring up 
here, which can only be satisfied by domestic produc- 



276 CAESON VAI.LEY THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

tion. The vast deserts eastward cannot meet it ; the 
arable region abont Salt Lake is at once too restricted 
and too distant; inland California is a dear country, 
and the transportation of bnlky staples over the Sierra a 
costly operation. The time will ultimately come — it 
may or may not be in our day — when two or three great 
dams over the Carson w411 render the irrigation of these 
broad, arid plains on its banks perfectly feasible ; and 
then this will be one of the most productive regions on 
earth. The vegetable food of one million people can 
easily be grown here, while their cattle may be reared 
and fed in tlie mountain-vales north and south of this 
valley. And when the best works shall have been con- 
structed, and all the lights of science and experience 
brought to bear on the subject, it will be found that 
neai^y everything that contributes to human or brute 
sustenance can be grown actually cheaper by the aid 
of irrigation than without it. As yet, we know little 
or nothing of the application of water to land and crops, 
and our ignorance causes deplorable waste and blunder- 
ing. Every year henceforth will make us wiser on this 
head. 

Twenty miles or so below Genoa, we passed " John- 
town " a Chinese settlement, whose people find employ- 
ment in the recently discovered gold mines. These 
mines are some eight miles northward of " Gold Canon," 
and are reported immensely rich. Silver and copper 
are blended with gold in the same vein-stone. A few 
are making money very fast here ; but these few control 
all the available water, and it seems impossible to intro- 
duce more. If a supply can be obtained at all, it must 



CAESON VALLEY THE SIEKKA NEVADA. 277 

be at enormous cost. I have vaguely lieard of a patent- 
ed process or processes for separating gold from other 
minerals or earths without the use of water; if there 
be any such process which is not a humbug, I urge the 
owner of the patent to haste to Carson Yalley and 
there make his fortune. I assure him of an enthusiastic 
welcome. 

" Carson City," just above Johntown, though it has 
few houses as yet, aspires to be the emporium of the 
new gold region, and perhaps of the embryo State of 
ISTevada ; but Genoa, ten or fifteen miles further up, is 
the present emporium, though a village of but forty or 
fifty houses. Here a convention had been in session for 
a fortnight, and had completed a constitution for the 
aforesaid embryo state of ]N"evada only the night beibre 
our arrival. We met some of the delegates bound 
homew^ard. Said state is to comprise the western half 
(very nearly) of Utah, with (I believe) a small strip of 
eastern California. California may object to this; but 
I trust Congress will organize at least the Territory of 
]S"evada at an early day. It is an established fact that 
a division of power between Mormons and Gentiles 
seldom works harmoniously; but in Utah there is no 
division — the Mormons have all. The people of Carson 
Yalley, and of western Utah generally, are not Mor. 
mons ; the legislation of Utah is unsuited and unaccep- 
table to them ; they desire to be set ofi*, and I trust they 
soon may be. Though few in numbers as yet, they are 
rapidly increasing, and will soon possess all the elements 
of a state. 

I had previously seen some beautiful valleys, but I 



278 CAKSON VALLEY THE SIEEKA NEVADA. 

place none of tliese ahead of Carson. I judge that por- 
tion of it already in good part under cultivation, about 
thirty miles long by ten to fifteen wide — ^an area des- 
tined to be largely increased, as I have already indi- 
cated. This valley, originally a grand meadow, the 
home of the deer and the antelope, is nearly inclosed 
by high mountains, down wliich, especially from the 
north and west, come innumerable rivulets, leaping and 
dancing on their way to form or join the Carson. Easily 
arrested and con-trolled, because of the extreme shallow- 
ness of their beds, these streams have been made to irri- 
gate a large portion of the upper valley, producing an 
abundance of the sweetest grass, and insuring bounteous 
harvests also of vegetables, barley, oats, etc. Wheat 
seems to do fairly here ; corn not so well ; in fact, the 
nights are too cold for it, if the water were not. For 
this spring-water, leaping suddenly down from its moun- 
tain-sources, is too cold, too pure, to be well adapted to 
irrigation ; could it be held back even a week, and 
exposed in shallow ponds or basins to the hot sunshine, 
it would be vastly more useful. When the whole river 
shall have been made available, twenty to forty miles 
below, it will prove far more nutritious and fertilizing. 

Genoa stands on the narrow bench or slope of hard 
granitic gravel, which intervenes betwixt the mountains 
and the valley, with half a dozen rivulets running 
through it, to fructify the fields and gardens below. Just 
behind it is the steep ascent of the mountain, its very soil 
formed of white, pulverized granite, gloriously covered 
with fragrant and graceful pines. As these steep ac- 
clivities are absolutely worthless for any other end than 



CAKSON VALLEY THE SIEKRA NEVADA. 279 

tree-growing, I entreat the people of Genoa to take care 
of these woods, and not let their place be shorn of half 
its beanty, merely to save a mile or so in the hauling 
of fuel. I may never see this lovely valley again — it is 
hardly probable that I ever shall — but its beauty, its 
seclusion, its quiet, the brightness of its abundant riv- 
ulets, the grandeur of its inclosing mountains, the grace 
and emerald verdure of their vesture of pines, have 
graven themselves on my memory with a vividness 
and force which only he who has passed weary weeks on 
some great, shadeless, verdureless desert can full}' realize. 
We stopped but to dine in Genoa, then economized 
the residue of the daylight by pressing on fifteen miles 
to the point at which the California road enters the 
mountains by the side of the largest of the brooks which 
unite to form the Carson. Plere we halted at a fair 
two-story house, the first one I had entered with the 
hope of resting in it since I left Salt Lake City. We 
had beds here — actual beds, and good ones — our first 
since Camp Floyd. Though our night was not a long 
one, for we were to start again by 4, a. m., I reckon 
good use was made of it by the four through passengers 
who had not lain down before since they left Shell 
Creek, &vq days ago, and nearly five hundred miles 
away. My own slumber was partial and broken, as it 
generally is ; but the bath which preceded and pre- 
pared for it was a genuine refreshment, and the sleep 
seemed quite sufficient. In fact, I felt that I could 
have gone without for another week, and experienced 
less discomfort tlian I did the first night that we rode, 
and the day after. 



280 CARSON VALLEY THE SIEKKA NEVADA. 

We were in motion again at the earliest dawn, for 
we liad still about seventy-five miles of rugged moun- 
tain road to traverse before reaching this place. The 
Carson side of the road is not yet half made, while the 
half next to this place is in the main good. But in 
fact, the expense of a good highway up the eastern 
slope of the Sierra must be a heavy one. For that 
slope is here composed of granite — simple, naked rock 
— with scarcely a fraction of its surface thinly covered 
by soiL Of course, no trees bat evergreens can live — 
a very few small quaking-asps in the bottoms of the 
ravines scarcely form an exception — while almost every 
rood is covered by giant, glorious pines. I saw sugar 
and yellow-pines at least eight feet in diameter and tall 
in proportion ; I am assured that one was recently cut 
near this road which measured eight feet across at a 
height of eighty feet from the ground, and from which 
two hundred and forty thousand shingles were made. 
Beside these universal pines, there are giant cedars, 
balsam-firs, and some red-wood ; after we cross the sum- 
mit, we found also oaks, which gradually increased in 
size and number as we descended. I think I saw oaks 
(the prevalent California species is much like our white- 
oak) at least four feet through — in short, I never saw 
anything like so much nor 60 good timber in the course 
of any seventy-five miles' travel as I saw in crossing 
the Sierra Nevada. How greatly blest California is in 
this abundance, I need not say. 

The road over this pass — here claimed to be the low- 
est and most practicable of any over the Sierra Nevada 
• — rises steadily for twelve or thirteen miles from onr 



CAESON VALLEY THE SIP:RRA NEVADA. 281 

moiTiing's starting-point, then descends for two or three 
miles as abruptly to the valley of a brook which runs 
north into lake Bigler, which in turn finds an outlet into 
Truckee Kiver, w^hereby its waters are borne eastward 
into the desert and there dissipated. There is fine grass 
on Lake Bigler, and several hundred cows are kept there 
in summer, making butter for the California market. 
"When snow falls, these cattle are driven down to the 
valley of the Sacramento, where the rains are now com- 
mencing, and they here live without hay till June, when 
they are taken back to the mountains again, where only 
is butter made from them. The business is very lucra- 
tive, the land costing nothing and being nnfenced. Ta- 
king into account gold, timber, and grass, the Sierra 
l^evada is probably the richest and most productive 
mountain-chain on earth. 

From the valley aforesaid, w^e rose again for two 
miles, along a narrow road cut into the side of a moun- 
tain, with a precipitous declivity on the right. Then 
we began to descend once more, beside a rivulet which 
leaped and laughed on its way to the Pacific. The 
ascent from the Carson side is far shorter than the 
descent this way, Carson Yalley being much higher 
than that of the Sacramento. But the road, even on 
this side, is, for most of the way, eaten into the side of 
a steep mountain, with a precipice of from five to fifteen 
hundred feet on one side and as steep an eminence on 
the other. Yet along this mere shelf, with hardly a 
place to each mile where two meeting wagons can pass, 
the mail-stage w^as driven at the rate of ten miles an 
Lour (in one instance eleven), or just as fast as four wild 



282 CAESON VALLEY THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

California horses, whom two men could scarcely harness, 
could draw if. Our driver was of course skillful ; but 
had he met a wagon suddenly on rounding one of the 
sharp points or projections we were constantly passing, 
a fearful crash was unavoidable. Had his horses seen 
fit to run away (as they did run once, on the unhooking 
of a trace, but at a place where he had room to rein, 
them out of the road on the upper side, and thus stop 
them) I know that he could not have held them, and we 
might have been pitched headlong down a precipice of 
a thousand feet, where all of the concern that could 
have been picked up afterward would not have been 
worth two bits per bushel. Yet at this break-neck rate 
we were driven for not less than four hours or forty 
miles, changing horses every ten or fifteen, and raising 
a cloud of dust through which it was difficult at times 
to see anything. We crossed the south fork of the 
American River, eighteen miles above this point, rising 
two or three miles immediately after to the summit of 
the ridge south, and thenceforward the road, nearly to 
this city, descends steadily a beautifully inclined ridge, 
and, but for the dust, would be one of the finest drives 
on earth. And right glad was I to find myself once 
more among friends, surrounded by the comforts of civili- 
zation, and with a prospect of occasional rest. I cannot 
conscientiously recommend the route 1 have traveled 
to summer tourists in quest of pleasure, but it is a balm 
for many bruises to know that I am at last in Cali- 
fornia. 



XXYII. 

CALIFORNIA MINES AND MINING. 

Sacramento, Aug. 1, 1859. 

I HAVE spent the last week mainly among tlie mines 
and miners of El Dorado, Placer, and Nevada counties, 
in the heart of the gold-producing region. There may 
be richer •' diggings " north or south ; but I believe no 
other three counties lying together have yielded in the 
aggregate, or are now producing, so much gold as those 
I have named. Of course, I have not been within sight 
of more tlian a fraction of the mines or ^^lacers of these 
counties, while I have not carefully studied even one 
of them ; and yet the little information I have been able 
to glean, in the intervals of tpaveling, friendly greeting, 
and occasional speech-making, may have some value 
for those wdiose ignorance on the subject is yet more 
dense than mine. 

Tlie three counties I have named lie near the center 
of the state, at the base of the Sierra ISTevada, between 
those mountains on the east and the valley of the Sa- 
cramento on the west. They are rugged in formation, 
being composed of innumerable hills (mainly spurs of 
the great chain), separated by narrow valleys, usually 
descending to the west, and gradually opening out into 
the broad, rich valley of the Sacramento. The three 
branches or " f )rks " of the American and those of the 
Yuba River come brawling down from the Sierra Ne- 



284 CALIFOKNTA MINES AND MINING. 

vada tlirougli very deep, narrow valleys or canons, and 
unite respectivel}^ to run a very short course less rapidly 
ere they are lost in the Sacramento — the Yuba having 
previously formed a junction witl:^ the Feather. " Bear 
Kiver," " Wolf Creek," " Deer Creek," etc., are the 
names of still smaller streams, taking their rise among 
the foot-hills, and running a short course into some fork 
of the American or Yuba, their scanty waters, with a 
good portion of those of the rivers aforesaid, being 
mainly drawn off into canals or " ditches," as they are 
inaccurately termed, by which the needful fluid is sup- 
plied to the miners. 

THE CANALS. 

These canals are a striking characteristic of the en- 
tire mining region. As you traverse a wild and broken 
district, perhaps miles from any human habitation or 
sign of present husbandry, they intersect your dusty, 
indifferent road, or are carried in flumes supported by 
a frame-work of timber twenty to sixty feet over your 
head. Some of these flumes or open aqueducts are 
carried across valleys each a mile or more in width ; I 
have seen two of them thus crossing side by side. The 
canals range from ten to sixty or eighty miles in length, 
and are filled by damming the streams wherefrom they 
are severally fed, and taking out their water in a wide 
trench, which runs along the side of one bank, gradual- 
ly gaining comparative altitude as the stream by its 
side falls lower and lower in its canon, until it is at 
length on the crest of the headland or mountain pro- 
montory which projects into the plain, and may be con- 



CALIFORNIA MLTnES AND MINING-. 28 5 

ducted down either side of it in any direction deemed 
desirable. Several of these canals have cost nearly or 
quite half a million dollars each, having been enlarged 
and improved from year to year, as circumstances dic- 
tated and means could be obtained. One of them, 
originally constructed in defiance of sanguine prophe- 
cies of failure, returned to its owners the entire cost of 
its construction within three months from the date of 
its completion. Then it was found necessary to enlarge 
and every w^ay improve it, and every dollar of its net 
earnings for the next four years was devoted to its per- 
fection. In some instances, the projectors exhausted 
their own means and then resorted to borrowing on 
mortgage at California rates of interest ; I learn without 
surprise that nearly or quite every such experiment re- 
sulted in absolute bankruptcy and a change of owners. 
Of late, the solvent and prosperous companies have 
turned their attention to dammins^ the outlets of the 
little lakes which fill the hollows of the Sierra, in order 
to hold back the superabundant waters of the spring 
months for use in summer and autumn. This course is 
doubly beneficent, in that it diminishes the danger from 
floods to which this city is specially subject, but which 
is also serious in all the valleys or canons of the mining 
region wherein there is anything that water can injure. 
I judge that the cost and present cash value of these 
mining canals throughout California must be many mil- 
lions of dollars, paying in the average a fair income, 
while their supply of water is at this season, and from 
July to November, utterly inadequate. "Water is sold 
by them by the cubic inch — a stream four inches deep 



286 CALIFORNIA l^nNES AND MINING. 

and six wide, for instance, being twenty-four inches, for 
which, at fifty cents per inch, twelve dollars per day 
must be paid by the taker. A head of six inches — that 
is, six inches' depth of water in the flume above the top 
of the aperture through which the water escapes into 
the miners' private ditch or flume — is usually allowed. 
The price per day ranges from twenty cents to a dollar 
per inch, though I think it now seldom reaches the 
higher figure, wdiich was once common. Were the sup- 
ply twice as copious as it is, I presume it would all be 
required ; if the price were somewhat lowered by the 
increase, I am sure it would be. Many works are now 
standing idle solely for want of water. 

THE MINES. 

Go wdiere you will, in the mining region, you are 
seldom a mile distant from past or present " diggings." 
Speaking generally, every ravine, gully, or water-course 
has been prospected ; each has, at some point, been dug 
open to the " bed-rock," and the overlaying earth or 
gravel run through a " rocker," " tom," or " sluice," in 
the hope of making it yield the shining dust. Many 
of these w^ater-courses have been deeply and widely 
dug up for miles in extent. If any are left entirely un- 
disturbed, the presumption is strong that the subjacent 
rock is so near the surface, that gold has had no chance 
to deposit itself thereon. In some instances, basins or 
depressions in the rock have been gradually filled up 
with earth — probably auriferous — through thousands of 
years, and the gold which might otherwise have been 
strown down the valley for miles is here collected, so 



CALIFORNIA ailNES AND MINING. 287 

that it would be sheer waste to mine throughout those 
miles. But the more general opinion seems to be, that 
gold is diffused throughout the soil of the entire mining 
region, especially upon, and just above the surface of, 
the bed-rock, though only in certain localities is it suf- 
ficiently abundant to justify eiforts to extract it. I find 
no one seeming to cherish any apprehensions that Cali- 
fornia will cease to produce gold abundantly, at least 
within the next quarter of a century. On the contrary, 
the current belief seems to be, that the influx of popu- 
lation will in time so reduce the wages of labor, or the 
progress of invention and discovery so increase its efla- 
ciency, that extensive districts will ultimately be mined 
with profit, which are now necessarily avoided. If the 
amount of available water were doubled, with a consid- 
erable reduction of price, the gold product of California 
would thereupon be increased several millions per an- 
num. At present, mining enterprises of considerable 
promise and indefinite magnitude remain in abeyance, 
simply because the price of labor, the rate of interest, 
and other elements of the cost of mining, are deemed 
too high to justify their prosecution. 

MODES OF MINING. 

In the course of a week's travel through a portion of 
the mining district, I did not see a single miner engaged 
with pick and pan in prospecting. Higher up in the 
mountains, or further to the north, I might have found 
such. I^or do I remember having seen white men, 
save, perha]>s, in a single instance, engaged in digging 
and washing the gravel or earth in the bed of any 



288 CALIFORNIA MINES AND MINING. 

water-conrse, whether river, creek, or dry gulch. But 
Chinese bands, of six to twelve, were often hard at work 
in these water-courses — Bear River, the south fork of 
the Yuba, etc. — digging, and washing with rocker, 
sluice, and a sort of wheel-and-flume arrangement, 
which I did not get the hang of. 

The Chinese are hardly used here. In the first place, 
they are taxed four dollars each per month for the naked 
privilege of mining at all. Next, they are not allowed 
to mine anywhere but in diggings which white men 
have worked out and abandoned, or which no white 
man considers w^orth working. Thirdly, if these reject- 
ed diggings, happen, in Chinese hands, to prove better 
than their reputation, and to begin yielding liberally, 
a mob of white sovereigns soon drive the Chinese out 
of them, neck and heels. "John" does not seem to be 
a very bad fellow, but he is treated worse than though 
he were. He is not malignant nor sanguinary, and sel- 
dom harms any but" his own tribe. But he is thor- 
oughly sensual, and intent on the fullest gratification 
of his carnal appetites, and on nothing else. He eats 
and drinks the best he can get, and as much as he can 
hold ; but he is never so devoid of self-respect as to be 
seen drunk in a public place ; even for an opium de- 
bauch, he secludes himself where none but a friendly 
eye can reach him. His "particular wanity" in the 
eating line is rice, whereof he will have the best only, 
if the best is to be had ; he likes a fat chicken also, and 
will pay his last dollar for one, rather than go without. 
Lacking the dollar, it is charged that he will rob hen- 
roosts ; at all events, hen-roosts are sometimes robbed, 



CALIFORNIA MINES AND MINING. 289 

and "John" has to bear the blame. He is popularly 
held to spend nothing, but cany all his gains out of the 
country and home to his native land — a charge dis- 
proved by the fact that he is an inveterate gambler, an 
opium-smoker, a habitual rum-drinker, and a devotee 
of every sensual vice. But he is weak in body, and not 
allowed to vote, so it is safe to trample on him ; he does 
not write English, and so cannot tell the story of his 
wrongs ; he has no family here (the few Chinese women 
brought to this country being utterly shameless and 
abandoned), so that he forms no domestic ties, and en- 
joys no social standing. Even the wretched Indians 
of California repel with scorn the suggestion that there 
is any kinship between their race and the Chinese. 
"John" has traits which I can neither praise nor jus- 
tify ; yet I suspect that, if other men's faults were pun- 
ished as severely as his, a good many Californians would 
be less comfortable than they are. 

As to quartz-mining — or the reduction to powder of 
the vein-stone wherein gold is contained, and the extrac- 
tion of the gold from the powder, by means of water, 
quick-silver, etc. — I judge that the time has not even 
yet arrived for its profitable prosecution. There are 
conspicuous instances of its success, that of the concern 
known as " Allison's Hanche," in Grass Yalley, for 
example — but I am confident that fully three out of 
every four quartz-mining enterprises have proved fail- 
ures, or have at best achieved no positive success. The 
current estimates of the yield of gold by quartz rock, 
are grossly exaggerated. I judge that the average yield 
of gold by quartz vein-stone is less than twenty dollars 

13 



290 CALIFOKNIA MINES AND MINING. 

per ton — barely one cent per pound — and that this yield 
will not pay the average cost of sinking shafts, running 
drifts or adits, pumping out water, raising ore (and an 
immense aggregate of dead rock with it), crushing it, 
and extracting the gold, in a country where common 
labor costs two and a half to three dollars per day. At 
forty dollars per ton of vein-stone, quartz-mining might 
pay ; but w^here one vein yields forty dollars per ton, 
til ere are many which yield less than twenty dollars. 
There are some instances of profitable quartz-mining by 
men on tlie spot who thoroughly understand the busi- 
ness ; but I have not heard of an instance in which 
money has been invested in quartz-mining, by persons 
out of California, who have not lost every farthing 
of it. 

I think the most popular form of mining at present is 
that of sir- king or drifting into hills which have a stra- 
tum of gravel at or near their base, directly overlying 
the bed-rock. Many of these hills would seem to have 
been piled, in some far-off, antediluvian period, upon a 
bed or basin of solid granite, which often hollows or 
dips toward its center like a saucer. If, then, a tunnel 
can be run in through the " rim rock " or side of this 
saucer so happily as to strike the level of the bottom, 
thereby draining off the water, and affording the utmost 
facility for extracting the gold-bearing gravel, the for- 
tune of the operator may be made by one lucky, or 
better than lucky, operation. In a few instances, these 
subterranean gravel-basins would seem to have formed 
parts of the beds of ancient rivers, and so to be extra- 
ordinarily rich in the precious dust. In some cases, the 



CALIFOKNIA IVHNES AND IMININa. 291 

" pay dirt " is hauled by steam up an inclined plane, or 
even raised perpendicularly by windlass ; but it is easier 
to extract it by a liorizontal drift or tunnel, wherever 
possible. Many mines of this order are worked night 
and day on the " three-shift " plan, and are paying very 
handsomely. 

But the newest, most efficient, most uniformly profitable 
mode of operation is that termed hydraidic mining — that 
is, the washing down and washing away of large deposits 
of auriferous earth by means of a current of water so 
directed as to fall on the right spot, or (better still) pro- 
jected through a hose and pipe with the force generated 
by a heavy fall. The former of these methods is exhib- 
ited in perfection at ISTevada, the latter at JS'orth San 
Juan, as, doubtless, at many other places. At ISTorth 
San Juan, near the middle fork of the Yuba, streams at 
least three inches in diameter, and probably containing 
twentv measured inches of water, are directed aojainst 
the remaining half of a high hill, which they strike 
with such force that bowlders of the size of cannon-balls 
are started from their beds and hurled five to ten feet 
into the air. By this process, one man will wash away 
a bank of earth sooner than a hundred men could do it 
by old-fashioned sluicing. I believe earth yielding a 
bare cent's worth of gold to the pan may be profitably 
washed by this process, paying a reasonable price for 
the water. As much as one hundred dollars per day is 
profitably paid for the water thrown through one pipe. 
The stream thus thrown will knock a man as lifeless as 
though it were a grape-shot. As the bank, over a hun- 
dred feet high, is undermined by this battery, it fre- 



292 CALIFORNIA MINES AND MINING. 

quentlj caves from the top downward, reaching and 
burying the careless operator. Three men have been 
thus killed at San Juan within the last month, until at 
length greater caution is exercised, and the operator 
fitands twice as far away as he formerly did. Yery long 
sluices — as long as may be — conduct the discharged 
water away ; and I am told that it is no matter how 
thick with earth the water may run, provided the sluice 
be long enough. It is of course so arranged as to pre- 
sent riffles, crevices, etc., to arrest the gold at first 
borne along by the turbid flood. I believe there are 
companies operating by this method whose gross re- 
ceipts from a single sluice have reached a thousand dol- 
lars per day. 

One of the novelties (to me) of this region is the 
presence of soft granite — putty-granite, if I may coin a 
name for it. Unlike most soft rocks, this seems not to 
harden by exposure to the atmosphere. It is found at 
various depths, and I know no way of accounting for 
it. It seems to me that one-fourth of the granite I saw 
at the base of recent excavations appeared soft as cheese. 
Is not this peculiar to California? 

Mining is a necessary art, but it does not tend to 
beautify the face of nature. On the contrary, earth 
distorted into all manner of ungainly heaps and ridges, 
hills half torn or washed away, and the residue left in 
as repulsive shape as can well be conceived, roads inter- 
sected and often turned to mire by ditches, water-courses 
torn up and gouged out, and rivers, once pure as crj^stal, 
now dense and opaque with pulverized rock — such is 
the spectacle presented throughout the mining region. 



CALIFORNIA MINES AND MINING. 293 

Kot a stream of any size is allowed to escape tlie pollu- 
tion — even the bountiful and naturally pure Sacramento 
is yellow w^ith it, and flows turbid and uninviting to the 
Pacific. (The people of this city have to diink it, 
nevertheless.) Despite the intense heat and drouth 
always prevalent at this season, the country is full of 
springs, which are bright and clear as need be; but 
wherever three or four of these have joined to form a 
little rill, some gold-seeker is sharp on their track, con- 
verting them into liquid mud. California, in giving up 
her hoarded wealth, surrenders much of her beauty 
also. 

Worse, still, is the general devastation of timber. 
The whole mining region appears to have been excel- 
lently timbered — so much of it as I have traversed was 
eminently so. Yellow, pitch, and sugar (white) pine (and 
what is here called pitch pine is a large, tall, and grace- 
ful tree), white, black, and live-oak, with stately cedars, 
once overspread the whole country ; not densely, as in 
eastern forests, but with reasonable spaces between the 
noble trunks — the oaks often presenting the general ap- 
pearance of a thrifty apple-orchard, undergrown with 
grass and bushes. But timber is wanted for flumes, 
for sluices, for drifts or tunnels, for dwellings, for run- 
ning steam-engines, etc., and, as most of the land has 
no owner, everybody cuts and slashes as if he cared for 
nobody but himself, and no time but to-day. Patri- 
archal oaks are cut down merely to convert their limbs 
into fuel, leaving the trunks to rot; noble pines are 
pitched this way and that, merely to take a log or two 
from the butt for sawing or splitting, leaving the resi- 



29i CALIFOKNIA MINES AND MINING. 

due a curaberer of the ground ; trees fit for tlie noblest 
uses are made to subserve the paltriest, merely because 
they are handy, and it is nobody's business to preserve 
them. There was timber enough here ten years ago to 
satisty every legitimate need for a century; yet ten 
years more will not elapse before the miners will be 
sending far up into the mountains at a heavy cost for 
logs that might still have been abundant at their doors, 
had the timber of this region been husbanded as it 
ought. Remonstrance were idle, but I must be per- 
mitted to deplore. 



xxYin. 

CALIFORNIA-THE YOSEMITE. 

Bear Yallet, Cal, Aug. 14, 1859. 

I LEFT Sacramento on Monday morning last, traveling 
by stage to Stockton, forty-eight miles nearly due south, 
crossing the Mokelnmne, and keeping first the Sacra- 
mento and then the San Joaquin a few miles on our 
right, and Mount Diablo conspicuous still further west. 
We traversed a level, fertile plain, sparsely w^ooded near 
the rivers — a plain which should be, but is not yet, 
densely peopled, and very productive. There are some 
fine orchard gardens near the cities, and might well be 
many ; but a good part of the intermediate country is 
uninclosed, and the residue mainly devoted to large 
ranches (or loose and slovenly cattle husbandry), and in 
less degree to the growing of small grain — wheat and 
barley. The stubble indicates good crops, but there is 
not a sufiicient area devoted to them. Uncertainty of 
land-titles — that paramount curse of California — is as- 
signed as the cause of this inadequacy of cultivation, 
wdiich I trust is not to continue. 

Stockton is situated on a bayou of the San Joaquin, 
at the head of reo^ular steamboat navifi^ation on that 
river, which makes it the third or fourth city of Cali- 
fornia, with fifteen thousand inhabitants, and an exten- 
sive carrying trade. The better dwellings are in good 



296 CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

part siiiTOimded by fine gardens, well filled with deli- 
cious fruit. In some of them, the primitive, wide-spread- 
ing oaks have been preserved, giving them an aspect 
of beauty and coolness most grateful to the traveler re- 
cently arrived from the plains. Stockton has the State 
Insane Asylum, and a very interesting commencement 
of a cabinet of natural history ; better still, she has an 
Artesian well one thousand feet deep, bored at a cost of 
ten thousand dollars, and pouring forth a copious and 
unfailing stream, some feet above the surface of the 
earth. Deep as it is, it penetrates only successive strata 
of what appears to be alluvial deposit, never touching 
bed-rock. Artesian wells are becoming common in 
California, and I trust are yet to play an important part 
in the development and extension not only of her agri- 
cultural but also of her mining industry, now crippled 
(especially in the south) by the general dearth of water. 
I liave a suspicion that all the water hitherto obtained 
by canals or ditches, so expensively constructed, could 
have been procured far cheaper by digging Artesian 
wells, which, however multiplied, could hardly fail, at 
the foot of the Sierra l^evada, to strike copious foun- 
tains at no unreasonable depth. 

I left Stockton next morning in a carriage with a 
friend who proposed to go through to Bear Yalley (sev- 
enty-five miles) before sleeping — a feat which I doubted 
the abiHty of any span of livery horses to accomplish. 
My doubt was misplaced. Good horses, an early start, 
careful, considerate driving, frequent Avatering, and the 
dry, bracing air of California, carried us through by a 
little after ten p. m., and our team would readily have 



CALIFORNIA THE TOSETSIITE. 297 

gone ten miles further had we required it. I judge that 
sixty miles of just such roads would have been as hard 
a drive in any state east of the Rocky Mountains. 

Our general course this day was east by south, pass- 
ing mainly over moderately undulating prairie of very 
unequal but generally indiiferent fertility, and crossing 
successively, at intervals of about twenty miles, the 
small rivers Stanislaus, Tuolumne, and Merced, all flow- 
ing from the mountains westward into the San Joaquin, 
and all rendered turbid, by the mining operations in 
progress on their banks or in their beds. The Stanislaus 
runs through a belt of rather light and thin oak, some 
two or three miles wide ; the others have a few scatter- 
ins: oaks and that is all. There is considerable hus- 
bandry — mainly of the ranching order, near Stockton 
and along the rivers aforesaid, but very little industry of 
any kind on the naked prairies between them, and not 
a drop of ruiming water, except, perhaps, a spring or 
two under some of the low hills which have a tolerably 
steep side respectively. There are a very few deep holes 
in some of the winter water-courses at which cattle still 
And drink, though of a bad quality. One settler from 
Massachusetts, who lives mainly by cattle-growing, in- 
formed us that he came around Cape Horn eight or ten 
years since, has now about ninety head of cattle, which 
are fast increasing, and intends to erect a wind-mill this 
winter, by whose aid he will be able to have a good 
garden at once, and a fine fruit-orchard within a few 
years. (Wind-mills located over wells or other reser- 
voirs of water, which they raise for use in irrigation, 
are very common in Stockton, and are rapidly going up 

13* 



298 CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

tlirougliout middle California). He has to go seven 
miles for liis fuel, fencing- stuff, etc., on the Stanislaus. 
His nearest neighbors, on the road we traveled, are some 
^ve to ten miles distant, but I believe he has nearer. 
He is doubtless richer here than in Massachusetts, but I 
cannot realize that his family are happier or more fa- 
vorably situated for mental and moral improvement, 
there being no school within reach, and the children 
depending for instruction on their New-England mother 
alone. But their children will not have I^ew-England 
mothers — and what then? I fear this cattle ranching, 
wdth long intervals between the ranches, is destined to 
half barbarize many thousands of the next generation, 
whom schools can scarcely reach, and to whom " the 
sound of the church-going bell " will be a stranger. Most 
of the agriculturists of this region, liowever, came here 
from Missouri, Arkansas, or Texas — many of them from 
Missouri or Arkansas by way of Texas — and do not seem 
to regard common schools as essential to civilized life. 
"We crossed the Merced sixty miles from Stockton 
(all these rivers are crossed by toll-bi'idges, or ferries — 
charges, one dollar each^per wagon) just before sunset; 
and now our road became rugged and bad, as we rose 
the first of the foot-hills of the Sierra. Thus far we 
had seen few traces of mining, save the muddy-colored 
waters of the rivers ; but seven miles further brought 
us to Quartzburg, in the center of a nearly washed-out 
valley of gold-bearing gravel ; and thence our way led 
seven miles further, over a far higher foot-hill, into 
Bear Yalle}^, where w^e found friends and grateful rest. 
The next day I devoted to an examination of Colonel 



CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 299 

Fremont's mines and works, of wliicli I may speak here- 
after, but must now hurry on to the Yosemite, 

I left Bear Yalley, two hours hiter than was fit, at 
6, A. M., on Thursday, resolved to push through to my 
immediate destination that night. My friend had pre- 
ceded me betimes to Mariposas, twelve miles on our 
way, to complete preparations for the trip ; but we 
were unluckily delayed here again by misapprehensions 
and the preengagement of animals for attendance on a 
camp-meeting, so that it was high noon when we 
reached the end of the wagon-road, twelve miles below 
Mariposa, wdiere the saddle is the only resource, while 
it is still nearly forty miles (many of them steep ones) 
to the Yosemite fall. Every one assured us that to get 
through that day was impossible ; yet I had no more 
time to give to the journey, and must try. My friend 
is a good rider, while I can barely ride at all, not hav- 
ing spent five hours on horseback, save in my visit to 
the Kansas gold mines, within the last thirty years. 
But the two gentlemen from Mariposas who accom- 
panied and guided us, knew all about the journey that 
we didn't — which is saying a great deal — so we pressed 
buoyantly, confidently on. 

Hussey's steam saw-mill, where we mounted (or rather 
I did, for the rest had done so before), marks pretty 
fairly the division between the oaks of the lower, and 
the firs of the higher elevations, though the two of 
course melt into each other. As we rose gradually but 
steadily, the white soon faded out, then the black, and 
last the live-oak, though the genuineness of this last is 
disputed, while the yellow, pitch, and sugar-pines, 



300 CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

cedars, and balsam-firs became more nninerous and 
stately, till they at length bad the ground almost wholly 
to themselves, save that the manzanito and other shrubs 
(mostly evergreens also) clustei-ed on nearly every open- 
ing among the trees. There is little or no precipice or 
bare rock for miles, and we rose along the southern face 
of the ridge overlooking the Cholchilla Yalley, until we 
seemed to have half California spread out before us 
like a map. Our range of vision extended south to the 
tule lake, or immense morass, in which the San Joaquin 
has its source, and west to the Coast Range, which alone 
barred the Pacific Ocean from our view. Still rising, 
we wound gradually around the peak of our first moun- 
tain through a slight depression or pass, and soon 
looked off upon the valley of the South Fork of the 
Merced, which opened for miles north and east of us. 
On this side, the descent is far steeper, and we traversed 
for miles a mere trace along the side of the mountain, 
where a misstep must have landed us at least a thou- 
sand feet below. In time, this too was left behind, and 
we descended fitfully and tortuously the east end of the 
mountain to the South Fork, whereon, sixteen miles 
from Hussey's and but five from the Big Trees of Mari- 
posas, we halted for rest and food. Before six, we were 
again in the saddle, crossing the fork and winding up 
over another mountain northward, with a precipitous 
descent of at least two thousand feet beside us for a 
mile or so. A steep ascent of half a mile carried us 
over the divide, whence we descended very rapidly to 
Alder Creek, at the northern base. Following up this 
creek over a succession of steep pitches, interleaved 



CALIFOENIA THE YOSEMITE. 301 

with more level patches, we bade adieu to daylight at 
" Grizzly Flat," a spot noted for encounters with the 
monarch of our Auierlcan forests, and thence crossed a 
ridge to " Summit Meadows," a succession of mainly 
narrow grassy levels, which wind in and out among the 
promontories of more or less shattered granite which 
make down from the mountain peaks on either side, 
but pursue a generally eastward direction to pour their 
tiny tribute into the Great Chasm. Our route led us 
six or eiiJ:ht times across these meadows — which were 
often so boggy as to require a very nice choice of foot- 
ing — and, intermediately, across the generally wooded 
promontories which deflected the probably continuous 
meadow into what seemed to us many, until w^e stood 
at length, about ten p. m., on the brink of the awful 
abyss, and halted a moment to tighten girths and take 
breath for the descent. 

And here let me renew my tribute to the marvelous 
bounty and beauty of the forests of this whole mountain 
region. The Sierra J^evadas lack the glorious glaciers, 
the frequent rains, the rich verdure, the abundant catar- 
acts of the Alps ; but they far surpass them — they sur- 
pass any other mountains I ever saw — in the wealth 
and grace of their trees. Look down from almost any 
of their peaks, and your range of vision is filled, bound- 
ed, satisfied, by what might be termed a tempest-tossed 
sea of evergreens, filling every upland valley, covering 
every hillside, crowning every peak but the highest, 
with their unfading luxuriance. That I saw during 
this day's travel many hundreds of pines eight feet in 
diameter, with cedars at least six feet, I am confident ; 



302 CALIFOKNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

and there were miles after miles of such and smaller 
trees of like genus standing as thick as they could grow. 
Steep mountain-sides, allowing them to grow, rank 
above rank, without obstructing each other's sunshine, 
seem peculiarly favorable to the production of these 
serviceable giants. But the Summit Meadows are pe- 
culiar in their heavy fringe of balsam-fir of all sizes, 
from those barely one foot high to those hardly less 
than two hundred, their branches surrounding them in 
collars, their extremities gracefully bent down by the 
weight of winter snows, making them here, I am con- 
fident, the most beautiful trees on earth. The dry prom- 
ontories which separate these meadows are also covered 
with a species of spruce, which is only less graceful than 
the fir aforesaid. I never before enjoyed such a tree- 
feast as on this wearing, difiicult ride. 

Descent into the Yosemite is only practicable at three 
points — one near the head of the valley, where a small 
stream makes in from the direction of the main ridge 
of the Sierra, down which there is a trail from the vicin- 
ity of Water River, Utah — a trail practicable, I believe, 
for men on foot only. The other two lead in near the 
outlet, from Mariposas and Coulterville respectively, on 
opposite banks of the Merced, and are practicable for 
sure-footed mules or horses. We, of course, made oar 
descent by the Mariposas trail, on the south side of the 
little river which here escapes from the famous valley 
by a caiion which water alone can safely, if at all, tra- 
verse, being shut in by lofty precipices, and broken by 
successive falls. 

My friends insisted that I should look over the brink 



CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 303 

into the profound abyss before clambering clown its 
side ; but I, apprehending giddiness, and feeling the 
need of steady nerves, firm]y declined. So we formed 
line again, and moved on. 

The night was clear and bright, as all summer nights 
in this region are ; the atmosphere cool, but not really 
cold ; the moon had risen before 7 o'clock, and was 
shedding so much light as to bother us in our forest- 
path, where the shadow of a standing pine looked ex- 
ceedingly like the substance of a fallen one, and many 
semblances were unreal and misleading. It was often 
hard to realize that the dark, narrow current-like pas- 
sage to the left was our trail, and not the winding, 
broader, moonlighted-opening on the right. The safest 
course was to give your horse a free rein, and trust to 
his sagacity, or self-love for keeping the trail. As we 
descended by zigzags the north face of the all but per- 
pendicular mountain our moonlight soon left us, or was 
present only by reflection from the opposite cliff. Soon, 
the trail became at once so steep, so rough, and so tor- 
tuous, that we all dismounted ; but my attempt at 
walking proved a miserable failure. I had been riding 
with a bad Mexican stirrup, which barely admitted the 
toes of my left foot ; and continual pressure on these 
had sprained and swelled them, so that walking was 
positive torture. 1 persevered in the attempt, till my 
companions insisted on my remounting, and thus floun 
dering slowly to the bottom. By steady effort, we de- 
scended the three miles (four thousand feet perpendicu- 
lar) in two hours, and stood at night by the rushing, 
roaring waters of the Merced. 



304: CALIFOKNIA THE TOSEMITE. 

That first full, deliberate gaze up the opposite height ! 
can I ever forget it ? The valley is here scarcely half a 
mile wide, while its northern wall of mainly naked, per- 
pendicular granite is at least four thousand feet high — 
probably more. But the modicum of moonlight that 
fell into this awful gorge gave to that precipice a vague- 
ness of outline, an indefinite vastness, a ghostly and 
weird spirituality. Had the mountain spoken to me in 
audible voice, or began to lean over with the purpose 
of burying me beneath its crushing mass, I should 
hardly have been surprised. Its whiteness, thrown into 
bold relief by the patches of trees or shrubs which 
fringed or flecked it wherever a few handful s of its 
moss, slowly decomposed to earth, could contrive to hold 
on, continually suggested the presence of snow, which 
suggestion, with difiiculty refuted, w^as at once renew^ed. 
And, looking up the valley, we saw just such mountain 
precipices, barely separated by intervening water-courses 
(mainly dry at this season) of inconsiderable depth, and 
only receding sufficiently to make room for a very nar- 
row meadow inclosing the river, to the furthest limit of 
vision. 

We discussed the propriety of camping directly at 
the foot of the pass, but decided against it, because of 
the inadequacy of the grass at this point for our tired, 
hungry beasts, and resolved to push on to the nearest 
of the two houses in the valley, which was said to be 
four miles distant. To my dying day, 1 shall remember 
that weary, interminable ride up the valley. We had 
been on foot since daylight; it was now past midnight; 
all were nearly used up, and I in torture from over 



CALIFORNIA THE TOSEMITE. 305 

twelve hours' steady riding on the hardest trotting 
horse in America. Yet we pressed on, and on, through 
clumps of trees, and bits of forest, and patches of mea- 
dow, and over hillocks of mountain debris, mainly 
granite bowlders of every size, often nearly as round as 
cannon balls, forming all but perpendicular banks to the 
capricious torrent that brought them hither — those stu- 
pendous precipices on either side glaring down upon us 
all the while. How many times our heavy eyes — I 
mean those of my San Francisco friend and my own — 
were lighted up by visions of that intensely desired 
cabin — visions which seemed distinct and unmistakable, 
but, which, alas ! a nearer view proved to be made up 
of moonlight and shadow, rock and trees, into which 
they faded one after another. It seemed at length that 
we should never reach the cabin ; and my w^avering 
mind recalled elfish German stories of the Wild Hunts- 
man, and of men who, having accepted invitations to a 
midnight chase, found on their return that said chase 
had been prolonged till all their relatives and friends 
were dead, and no one could be induced to recognize or 
recollect them. Gladly could I have thrown myself 
recklessly from the saddle, and lain where I fell till 
morning, but this would never answer, and we kept 
steadily on. 

" Time and the hour wear out the longest day." 

At length the real cabin — one made of posts and 
beams and whip-saw^ed boards, instead of rock, and 
shadow, and moonshine — was reached, and we all eagerly 
dismounted, turning out our weary steeds into abundant 



306 CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

grass, and stirring up the astonished landlord, who had 
never before received guests at that unseemingly hour. 
(It was after one a. m.) lie made us welcome, however, 
to liis best accommodations, which would have found us 
lenient critics even had they been worse ; and I crept 
into my rude but clean bed so soon as possible, wdiile 
the rest awaited the preparation of some refreshment 
for the inner man. There was never a dainty that could 
have tempted me to eat at that hour. I am told that 
none ever before traveled from Bear Yalley to the Yose- 
mite in one day — I am confident no green-horns ever 
did. The distance can hardly exceed thirty miles by 
an air line ; but only a bird could traverse that line, 
while, by way of Mariposas and the South Fork, it must 
be fully sixty miles, with a rise and fall of not less than 
twenty thousand feet. 

The fcdl of the Yosemite, so called, is a humbug. It 
is not the Merced River that makes this fall, but a mere 
tributary trout-brook, wdiich pitches in from the north 
by a barely once-broken descent of two thousand six 
hundred feet, while the Merced enters the valley at its 
eastern extremity, over falls of six hundred and two 
hundred and fifty feet. But a river thrice as large as 
the Merced, at this season, would be utterly dwarfed by 
all the other accessories of this prodigious chasm. Only 
a Mississippi or a Niagara could be adequate to their 
exactions. I readily concede that a hundred times the 
present amount of water may roll down the Yosemite fall 
in the months of May and June, when the snows are melt- 
ing from the central ranges of the Sierra l^Tevada, which 
bound this abyss on the east ; but this would not add 



CALIFORNIA THE TOSEMITE. 307 

a fraction to the wonder of this vivid exemplication of 
the divine power and majesty. At present, the little 
stream that leaps down the Yosemite, and is all but 
shattered to mist by the amazing descent, looks like a 
tape-line let down from the cloud-capped height to 
measure the depth of the abyss. The Yosemite Yalley 
(or Gorge) is the most unique and majestic of nature's 
marvels, but the Yosemite Fall is of little account. 
Were it absent, the valley would not be perceptibl}^ less 
worthy of a fatiguing visit. 

We traversed the valley from end to end next day, 
but an accumulation of details on such a subject only 
serve to confuse and blunt the observer's powers of 
perception and appreciation. Perhaps the visitor who 
should be content with a long look into the abyss from 
the most convenient height, without braving the toil of 
a descent would be wiser than all of us ; and yet that 
first glance upward from the foot will long haunt me as 
more impressive than any look dowmward from the 
summit could be. 

I shall not multiply details, nor waste paper in noting 
all the foolish names which foolish people have given 
to different peaks or turrets. Just think of two giant 
stone-towers, or pillars, which rise a thousand feet above 
the towering cliff which form their base, being styled 
"The Two Sisters!" Could anything be more mala- 
droit and lackadaisical ? " The Dome " is a high, round, 
naked peak, which rises between the Merced and its 
little tributary from the inmost recesses of the Sierra 
Nevada already instanced, and which tow^ers to an alti- 
tude of over five thousand feet above the waters at its 



308 CALIFORNIA THE YOSEMITE. 

base. Picture to yourself a perpendicular wall of bare 
granite nearly or quite one mile high ! Yet there are 
some dozen or score of peaks in all, ranging from three 
thousand to five thousand feet above the valley ; and a 
biscuit tossed from any of them would strike very near 
its base, and its fragments go bounding and falling still 
further. I certainly miss here the glaciers of Chamo- 
nix ; but I know no single wonder of nature on earth 
which can claim a superiority over the Yosemite. Just 
dream yourself for one hour in a chasm nearly ten miles 
long, with egress save for birds and w^ater, but at three 
points, up the face of precipices from three thousand to 
four thousand feet high, the chasm scarcely more than 
a mile wide at any point, and tapering to a mere gorge, 
or caiion, at either end, with walls of mainly naked and 
perpendicular white granite, from three thousand to 
five thousand feet high, so that looking up to the sky 
from it, is like looking out of an unfathomable profound 
— and you will have some conception of the Yosemite. 

We dined at two o'clock, and then rode leisurely 
down the valley, gazing by daylight at the wonders we 
had previously passed in the night. The spectacle was 
immense ; but I still think the moonlight view the more 
impressive. 

Our faithful beasts climbed the steep acclivity at a 
little more than the rate of a mile per hour, so that we 
had still an hour or two of sunshine before us as we 
stood at last on the summit. I took a last long look 
into and up the valley, with the sun still lighting up 
the greater portion of the opposite cliffs, and then turn- 



CALIFOKNIA THE YOSEMITE. 309 

ed mj horse's head westward. We reached, at lOJ- 
p. M., the ranche on the South Fork, kept by a solitary 
man, who has no neighbor nearer than sixteen miles, 
and there halted for the night. 



XXIX. 

CALIFORKIA-THE BIG TREES. 

Steamboat Cornelia, on the ) 
San Joaquin, Aug. 15, '59. ) 

On reaching Clark's ranclie, we were so liappy as to 
meet the Keverend O. C. Wheeler, secretary, of the 
state agricultural society, and his associates on the visit- 
ing committee of that society, now on a tour of official 
observation through various districts of the state. We 
had agreed at Sacramento to make the trip to the Yose- 
mite together ; but some mishap had detained them 
fourteen miles back of Bear Yalley during the night of 
Wednesday last ; and when at length they reached 
Mariposas, my party had been some hours on our way, 
while not a horse nor mule could be hired that day, to 
replace their jaded nags, whose immediate proceeding 
on so rough a trip w^as out of the question. So they 
halted, perforce, till next morning, and were only going 
up to the Yosemite when we were coming down, as 
aforesaid. 

But they had just returned to Clark's from the Big 
Trees of Mariposas, having visited those of Calaveras 
two or three days before. The general impression seems 
to be that the Calaveras trees are the larger and finer ; 
but Mr. Wheeler, having just visited each, was veiy 
decided in his preference for those of Mariposas, and I 
understood all his associates to concur in that verdict. 



CALIFORNIA THE BIG TREES. 311 

They found the Calaveras trees in far better condition, 
in the charge of a keeper, and approached by a road 
over which a light carriage may readily be driven up to 
the very trees themselves. These are no light advan- 
tages ; but they assured us that, on the other hand, the 
Mariposas trees are considerably more numerous (some 
six hundred against two hundred and fifty), and are 
really larger and finer specimens of their kind. Mr. 
Wheeler found by careful measurement of the diameter 
of one of these trees one hundred feet above the ground 
to be twenty feet, while its first limb, which put ofi* at 
that heiglit, had a diameter of six feet. Just think of a 
twig six feet through at that elevation ! He obtained 
these results by measuring the tree's shadow, which I 
need hardly remark was probably narrower than the 
tree itself He had several tape-line measurements of 
Mariposas trees over one hundred feet in circumference ; 
but one of tlie Calaveras trees is claimed to be, I think, 
nearly one-foorth larger than this. 'No matter — those 
of either county are big enough. 

"\Ye went up to the Mariposas trees early next morn- 
ino^. The trail crosses a meadow of most luxuriant wild 
grass, then strikes eastward up the hills, and rises al- 
most steadily, but in the main not steeply, for five miles, 
when it enters and ends in a slight depression or valley, 
nearly on the top of this particular mountain, where the 
Big Trees have been quietly nestled for I dare not say 
how many thousand years. That they were of very 
substantial size when David danced before the ark, when 
Solomon laid the foundations of the Temple, when 
Theseus ruled in Athens, when JEneas fled from the 



312 CALIFORNIA ^THE BIG TREES. 

burning wreck of vanquished Troy, when Sesostris led 
his victorious Egyptians into the heart of Asia, I have 
no manner of doubt. 

The Big Trees, of course, do not stand alone. 1 ap- 
prehend that they could not stand at present, in view of 
the very moderate depth at which they are anchored to 
the earth. Had they stood on an unsheltered mountain- 
top, or even an exposed hill-side, they would doubtless 
have been prostrated, as I presume thousands like them 
were prostrated, by the hurricanes of centuries be- 
fore Christ's advent. But the locality of these, though 
probably two thousand five hundred feet above the 
South Merced, and some four thousand five hundred 
above the sea, is sheltered and tranquil, though several 
of these trees have manifestly fallen within the present 
century. Unquestionably, they are past their prime, 
though to none more than to them is applicable the 
complimentary characterization of " a green old age." 

Let me try to give as clear an idea of these forest 
mastodons as I can, though I know that will be but a 
poor one. 

In measuring trees, it is so easy to exaggerate by run- 
ning your line around the roots rather than the real 
body, that I place little dependence on the reported and 
recorded measurements of parties under no obligations 
to preserve a judicial impartiality. But I believe a 
fair measurement of the largest trees standing in this 
grove would make them not less than ninety feet in cir- 
cumference, and over thirty in diameter, at a height of 
six feet from their respective bases, and that several of 
them have an altitude of more than three hundred feet. 



CALIFORNIA THE BIG TREES. 313 

I believe the one that was last uprooted measures a lit- 
tle over three hundred. 

But these relics of a more bounteous and magnificent 
world seem destined to speedy extinction. I deem them 
generally enfeebled b}'' age and the racking and wrench- 
ing of their roots by the blasts that sweep through their 
tops. These malign influences they might withstand 
for ages, however, were it not for the damage they have 
already sustained, and are in danger of hereafter sus- 
taining, through the devastating agency of fire. For 
these glorious evergreen forests, though the ground be- 
neath them is but thinly covered with inflammable 
matter, are yet subject to be overrun every second or 
third year by forest conflagrations. For the earth, to 
a depth of several feet, even, is dry as an ash-heap, 
from July to October, and the hills are so steep that 
fire ascends them with wonderful facility. And thus 
the big trees are scarred, and gouged, and hollowed out 
at the root and upward, as the eflfects of successive fires, 
one of which, originating far southward, ran through 
this locality so late as last autumn, burning one of the 
forest kings so that it has since fallen, half destroying 
another already prostrate, through the hollow of which 
two horsemen (not G. F. R. James's, I trust,) were ac- 
customed to ride abreast for a distance of fully one hun- 
dred feet, and doing serious damage to very many 
others. If the village of Mariposas, the county, or the 
state of California, does not immediately provide for 
the safety of these trees, I shall deeply deplore the in- 
fatuation, and believe that these giants might have been 
more happily located. 

14 



314 CALIFOKNIA THE BIG TEEES. 

The big trees are usually accounted red-wood, but 
bear a strong resemblance to tlie cedar family, so that 
my intelligent guide plausibly insisted that they are 
identical in species with their probable cotemporaries, 
the famous cedars of Lebanon. The larger cedars in 
their vicinity bear a decided resemblance to the small- 
est of them ; and yet there are qiate obvious differences 
between them. The cedar's limbs are by far the more 
numerous, and come far down the trunk ; they are also 
relatively smaller. The cedar's bark is the more deep- 
ly creased up and down the trunk, while the foliage of 
the big trees is nearer allied to that of certain pines 
than to the cedar's. The bark of the big trees is very 
thick — in some instances, over two feet — and is of a 
dry, light quality, resembling cork : hence the fatal 
facility of damage by running fires. The w^ood of the 
big trees is of a light red color, seeming devoid alike 
of sap and resin, and to burn about as freely wdiile the 
tree lives as a year or more after its death. Unless in 
the cedars of Lebanon, I suspect these mammoths of 
the vegetable world have no counterparts out of Cali- 
fornia. 

They are of course not all of extraordinary size, yet 
I cannot remember one that would girth so little as 
twenty feet at a height of two yards from the earth's 
surface, which is the proper point for horizontal mea- 
surement. Hardly one is entirely free from the marks 
of fire at its root, while several have been bnrned at 
least half through, and are so hollowed by fire that a 
tree eight feet in diameter would probably find ample 
room in the cavity. And, while many are still hale 



CALIFORNIA THE BIG TREES. 315 

and thrifty, I did not perceive a single young one com- 
ing forward to take the place of the decaying patriarchs. 
I believe these trees now bear^ no seed-cone or nut, 
whatever they may have done in Sclpio's or in Alexan- 
der's time, and there is no known means of propagating 
their kind ; and I deeply regret that there is not, though 
starting a tree that would come to its maturity in not 
less than four thousand years would seem rather slow 
business to the fast age in which it is our fortune to live. 
Possibly, the big trees are a relic of some bygone 
world — some past geologic period — cotemporaries of the 
gigantic, luxuriant ferns whereof our mineral coal is 
the residuum. I am sure they will be more prized and 
treasured a thousand years hence than now, should they, 
by extreme care and caution, be preserved so long, and 
that thousands will then visit them, over smooth and 
spacious roads, for every one who now toils over the 
rugged bridle-path by which I reached them. Mean- 
time, it is a comfort to know that the Yandals who bored 
down with pump-augers, the largest of the Calaveras 
trees, in order to make their fortunes by exhibiting a 
section of its bark at the east, have been heavy losers 
by their villainous speculation. 

We left the big trees a little after ten a. m., returned 
to Clark's and fed, and then struck for Mariposas, where 

* I am assured that this was a mistake, and that young trees of this 
species, propaorated from seed-cones, are now growing in several nurseries. 
I am sure I saw no cones on any of the giants, though thej were in sea- 
son ; and I still suspect that the seeds from which young trees have been 
started, grew on the younger and smaller trees of the species, not on the 
mammoths. 



316 CALIFORNIA THE BIG TEEES. 

we arrivecl a little before six p. m. — I alone so covered 
with boils, caused immediatelj bj horseback exercise, 
as to make riding in any way a torture. My friend who 
had taken ine up to Hussey's in his carriage was prompt- 
ly on hand on my return, though he had been a hun- 
dred times assured that I could not possibly be back at 
the time appointed. "We had a gathering and a talk at 
Mariposas in the evening, and I then rode over to Bear 
Yalley, which we reached a little before midnight. 
Next evening, we ran down so far as the Tuolumne on 
our return, and to-day came on to Stockton, where we 
took the steamboat for San Francisco, which we hope 
to reach a little after midnight. 

COL. Fremont's mines. 

I have already stated that I spent most of "Wednes- 
day in an examination, under Col. Fremont's guidance, 
of the mines he is working in Bear Yalley, and of the 
inills in which he reduces the rock and separates the 
gold. I usually observe carefully the rule which en- 
joins reserve, when addressing the ^^^-^blic, respecting 
matters of purely personal and private concern ; but 
there are circumstances in the case of Col. F. which 
seem to justify a departure from the general usage. 
Chosen three or four years since the standard-bearer of 
a new political organization in an exciting contest, and 
exposed, becanse of that choice, to a torrent of person- 
al defamation which not merely impeached his integrity 
as a man and his fidelity as a public servant, but sought 
to divest him at once of his name, his religious faith, 
and even of his native land, I believe there are many 



CALirOENTA THE BIG TREES. 317 

tlionsands who clierisli for Col. Fremont a personal re- 
gard and affection which render them profoundly solici- 
tous with respect to his good or evil fortune. It is for 
this class only that I write the following : 

The public are generally aware that Colonel Fremont 
purcliased from a Mexican at an early day a large tract 
or grant of wild mountain land lying among the foot- 
hills of the Sierra IS'evada, called by the Mexicans, Los 
Marlposas (the Butterfly), after a wild flower known to 
abound here. It is known also tliat this tract was, some 
years after, discovered or presumed to be rich in gold — 
the first piece of rich vein-stone having been taken out 
by the proprietor's own hand. It is further known that 
all manner of difficulties and obstructions were inter- 
posed to defeat the confirmation of the grant under 
which Colonel Fremont holds his title, and that a pro- 
tracted and most expensive litigation was tlius forced 
upon him. Meantime, the property was wholly unpro- 
ductive — that is to its owner — and the most inviting: 
portions of it were clutched by squatters, who claimed, 
as they still claim, a right to dig its soil into utterly 
worthless chasms and heaps in quest of gold, to cut 
down its timber and feed off its grass at their own dis- 
cretion, leaving to the fortunate owner only the privi- 
lege of paying the taxes, which, under the management 
of public affairs by officers politically and personally 
hostile to him, have been swelled to no less than sixteen 
thousand dollars per annum — his taxes, remember, on 
an estate which every body used or wasted as they saw 
fit, and which was yielding him no income whatever. 
For the feeble efforts at quartz-mining made in his be- 



318 CALIFOKNIA THE BIG TREES. 

half in his years of absence — in the absence, too, of all 
successful experience in such mining — only served to 
involve hiin still more deeply in debt, which was further 
swelled by unfortunate agencies and business connec- 
tions, until the aggregate of his liabilities on account 
of this property can hardly have fallen short of half a 
million dollars. 

Such were the circumstances, under which he deter- 
mined, in 1857, to return to his California estate, and 
here, surrounded by his family, devote all his time and 
energies to its improvement and renovation. In the 
spirit of that determination he has since lived and 
labored, rising with the lark, and striving to obtain a 
complete knowledge and master of the entire business, 
taking more and more labor and responsibility on his 
own shoulders as he felt himself able to bear them, until 
he is now manager, chief engineer, cashier, accountant, 
and at the head of every other department but that of 
law, for which he finds it necessary still to rely on pro- 
fessional aid. And his mines are at length becoming 
productive and profitable. His first (steam) mill, near 
his dwelling, runs eight stam]3s night and day ; his 
second (water) mill, three miles distant, on the Merced, 
at the north end of his estate, runs twelve stamps, also 
constantly ; and the two are producing gold at the rate 
of at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars per 
annum, at an absolute cost, I am confident, of not more 
than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Of course 
lie needs all the profits, if not more, to extend and per- 
fect his works, having already a much larger water-mill 
nearly ready to go into operation beside that on the 



CALIFORNIA THE UIU TREKS. 319 

Merced, in which he expects, I believe, to run fifty-six 
stamps, and he hopes to have one hundred in all running 
before the close of 1860. With that number, I presume, 
he would be able, bv giving his constant personal atten- 
tion to the business, aided by faithful and capable assist- 
ants, to realize a net profit of at least ten thousand 
dollars per week, which would very soon clear him of 
debt and leave him unincumbered in the ownership of 
perhaps the finest mining property in the world. 

Still, the Spanish proverb, " It takes a mine to work 
a mine" is exemplified in his case, as in others. A 
large additional investment is needed to render his 
property as productive as it might be. For instance : 
he has just contracted for the transportation of thirty 
thousand tons of vein-stone from his great mine to his 
mill on the Merced (barely a mile and a half down hill) 
for sixty thousand dollars. One half of this sum would 
construct a railroad from the heart of the mine down to 
the floor of the mill, and take down this amount of 
rock, leaving the railroad and thirty thousand clear 
gain. But he must have the rock at once, while the 
railroad would require time, and a heavy outlay of 
ready cash. A Rothschild would build the road forth- 
with, and save forty thousand dollars ; but Colonel F., 
not being yet a Kothschild, whatever he may in time 
become, must bide his time. 

His great vein, though not the richest, is probably 
the most capacious of any in California. Its thickness 
varies from eight to thirty-eight feet — I believe it is in 
one place sixty feet wide. It is, in fact, a clifi:* or pyra- 
mid of gold-bearing quartz inclosed in a mountain of 



320 CALIFORNIA THE BIG TREES. 

slate — a mountain deeply gashed and seamed in various 
directions by the water-com-ses which run down it to the 
Merced. These ravines, this river, aided by proper en- 
gineering, obviate all the usually heavy, often ruinous, 
expense of pumping ; the mine, properly opened, will 
not only clear itself of water, but the vein-stone may be 
easily run out on inclined tram-roads, instead of being 
hoisted to the surface through shafts by an enormous 
outlay of power. Then the width of the vein obviates 
all necessity for dead-work, save in sinking shafts and 
running up adits ; the principal w^ork is rather quarry- 
ing than mining; and there can be no apprehension that 
the vein will give out or grow poor, because it has al- 
ready been tested at its various outcrops to a depth of 
fifteen hundred feet, and is richer at the bottom than 
near the top, where it has mainly been worked to this 
time. I have no doubt that there are ten millions of 
dollars in this mine above water-level — that is, the level 
of the Merced — and that, though the yield of gold thus 
far has fallen rather below twenty dollai*s per ton, it 
may, even at that rate, be mined at a net profit of at 
least one-fourth of the gross product. Colonel F. is con 
fident that his present works do not separate half the 
gold contained in the rock, and that, by the use of the 
new amalgamators he is about to apply, he w^iil double 
his weekly product without any increase of cost. This 
conviction is founded on chemical experiments and 
tests, which seem to leave no doubt of the fact that the 
additional gold is in the rock ; but wliether the means 
of extracting it have yet been discovered, remains to 
be seen. At all events, I feel sure that the productive- 



CALIFOENIA THE BIG TREES. 321 

ness of these works will increase raiicli faster than their 
expenses, so long as Colonel Fremont shall devote him- 
self to their management so entirely as he is now doing. 
In the hands of agents and attorneys, they would prob- 
ably become again what they once were, and what all 
qnartz-mining works, managed at second hand, have 
been. 
14* 



XXX. 

CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY COJVSIDERED. 

San Jose, Cal., Aug. 27, 1859. 

The state of California may be roughly characterized 
as two ranges of mountains — a large and a small one — 
with a great valley between them, and a narrow, irreg- 
ular counterpart separating the smaller from the Pacific 
oceau. If we add to these a small strip of arid, but fer- 
tile coast, and a broad sandy desert behind it, lying 
south-west of California proper, and likely one day to be 
politically severed from it, we have a sufficiently accu- 
rate outline of the topography of the golden state. 

Such a region, stretching from north latitude 32° 30' 
up to latitude 42°, and rising from the Pacific ocean up 
to perpetually snow-covered peaks fifteen thousand feet 
high, can hardly be said to have a climate. Aside from 
the Alpine crests of the Sierra, and the sultry deserts 
below the Mohave and Santa Barbara, California em- 
bodies almost every gradation of climate, from the semi- 
arctic to the semi-tropical. There are green, fertile val- 
veys in the Sierra which only begin to be well grassed 
when the herbage of the ^reat valley is drying up, and 
from which the cattle are driven by snows as early as 
the first of October — long before grass begins to start 
afresh on the banks of the Sacramento. There are other 
valleys upon and near the sea-coast, wherein frost and 



CALIFORNIA THYSICALLY COXSIDEKEI). 323 

snow are strangers, rarely seen, and vanishing with the 
niglit that gave them being. Generally, however, M-e 
may say of the state, that it has a mild, dry, breezy, 
healthy climate, better than tliat of Italy ; in that the 
sultry, scorching bhists from African deserts have here 
no counterpart. Save in the higher mountains, or in 
the extreme north-east, snow never lies, the earth never 
freezes, and winter is but a milder, greener, longer 
spring, througliout which cattle pick up their own liv- 
ing far more easily and safely than in summer. 

The climate of the v^alleys may be said to be created, 
as that of the mountains is modified, by the influence 
of the Pacific ocean. Sea-breezes from the south-west 
in winter, from the north-west in summer, maintain an 
equilibrium of temperature amazing to ISTew England- 
ers. San Francisco — situated on the great bay formed 
b}^ the passage of the blended waters of the Sacramento 
and the San Joaquin — the former draining the western 
slope of the Sierra ]N"evada from the north, as the latter 
does from the south — is thus, as it were, in the throat 
of the bellows through which the damp gales from the 
Pacific are constantly rushing to cool the parched 
slopes, or warm the snow-clad heights of the interior. 
I presume there was never a day without a breeze at 
San Francisco — generally, a pretty stiff one. The sea- 
breeze is always damp, often chilly, and rolls up clouds 
which hide the sun for a part, at least, of most days. 
Though ice seldom forms, and snow never lies in her 
streets, San Francisco must be regarded as a cold place 
by most of her visitors and unacclimated summer deni- 
zens. I presume a hot day was Tiever known there, 



324 CALIFOKNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDEEED. 

and no night in which a pair of good woollen blankets 
were not esteemed a shelter and a comfort by all but 
extremely hot-blooded people. Thick flannels and 
warm woollen onter-garments are worn throughout the 
year by all who have, or can get them. In short, San 
Francisco is m climate what London would be with her 
summer rains transformed into stiff and almost constant 
breezes. 

The soil of California is almost uniformly good. The 
valleys and ravines rejoice in a generous depth of dark, 
vegetable mould, usually mingled with, or resting on 
clay ; while the less precipitous hill-sides are covered 
by a light reddish clayey loam of good quality, asking 
only adequate moisture to render it amply productive. 
Bring a stream of water almost anywhere, save on the 
naked granite, and you incite a luxuriant vegetation. 

Yet the traveler wdio lirst looks down on the valleys 
and lower hill-sides of California in mid-summer is 
generally disapponited by the all but universal dead- 
ness. Some hardy weeds, a little sour, coarse grass 
along the few still living water-courses, some small, far 
between gardens and orchards rendered green and 
thrifty by irrigation, form striking exceptions to the 
general paralysis of all the less inspiring manifestations 
of vegetable life. High up in the mountains, he has 
found green valleys whereon the snow doubtless lingered 
till late in June, leaving the soil saturated like a wet 
sponge for a month later; and there are swampy 
meadows whereon the coarse grass grows thick to a 
height of several feet ; while beds of delicate flowering- 
plants, sheltered by the tall forests, maintain their vital- 



CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 325 

ity on the momitain-slopes till late in Angnst ; bnt he 
passes out of the region of evergreens into that of oaks 
as he descends to a level of some three tliousand feet 
above the ocean, and green valleys, luxuriant meadows, 
and mountain-glades of flowering-plants still living, 
salute him no longer. The oaks gradually become 
sparse and scattered ; their dark foliage contrasts strong- 
ly with the dun, dead, herbage beneath and between 
them ; as he descends to the plains, the oaks vanish or 
become like angels' visits, while a broad expanse of 
dried-up pasture-range vies with occasional strips of 
wheat or barley stubble in evincing the protracted 
fierceness of the snmmer drouth. His vision sweeps 
over miles after miles of stubble and range whereon no 
sign of vegetable life — not even a green weed — is pre- 
sented ; he sees seven-eighths of the water-courses abso- 
lutely, intensely dry ; while the residue are reduced 
from rivers to scanty brooks, from brooks to tiny rivu- 
lets ; and he murmurs to himself — ''Is this the Ameri- 
can Italy ? It looks more like a Sahara or Gobi." 

Yet this, like most hasty judgments, is a very un- 
sound one. These slopes, these vales, now so dead and 
cheerless, are but resting from their annual and ever 
successful efforts to contribute bountifully to the suste- 
nance and comfort of man. Summer is their season of 
torpor, as winter is oufs. Dead as these wheat-fields 
now" appear, the stubble is thick and stout, and its indi- 
cations are more than justified by the harvest they have 
this year yielded. The California State Register gives 
the following as the ofticially returned wheat-yield of the 
state for the last three years : 



326 CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 

Years. Total Acres in Wheat. Total Product. 

1856 171,809 3,879,032 

1857 164,642 3,205,484 

' 1858 186,464 3,568,669 

Giving as the aggregate of three years' growth of 
wheat, 10,653,185 bushels from 522,975 acres, or more 
than twenty bushels per acre. I am confident that the 
aggregate yield of the Atlantic states for those same 
three years did not exceed ten bnshels per seeded acre. 
The average yield of barley throughout the state, ac- 
cording to these returns, is about twenty-five bushels, 
and of oats something over thirty bushels, per seeded 
acre. I know the majority will say "These are but 
moderate crops;" and so they may be, if compared with 
what might »be grown, and in particular instances are 
grown; but if compared with the actual average yield 
of small grain throughout the Atlantic states, they are 
large indeed. 

California — though very little of her soil produces 
good crops of'-^* Indian corn, owing to the coolness of 
her summer nights and the want of seasonable rains — 
now growls her own bread, and may easily grow far 
more. Estimating her population at half a million, her 
last year's crop exceeded seven bushels per head, which 
is an ample allowance ; and this year's crop is still bet- 
ter, with a larger area sown. 

But, while only 756,734 acres in all of the soil of this 
state were cultivated last year (which still shows an in- 

* Yet the returns of 1858 give a yield of 620,323 bushels from 12,978 
acres, or forty-eight bushels per acre where grown. But it can only be 
grown to profit in limited localities. 



CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 327 

crease on any former year), there were 1,159,813 acres 
of inclosed lan*d — with of course a mnch larger area of 
nninclosed — devoted to grazing. Cattle-growing was 
the chief employment of the Californians of other days ; 
and cattle-growing next after mining, is the chief busi- 
ness of the Californians of 1859. There are compara- 
tively few farms yet established, while ranches abound 
on every side. A corral^ into which to drive his wild 
lierd when use or security is in question, and a field or 
two in which to pasture his milch cows and working 
cattle, are often all of the ranche that is inclosed ; the 
herd is simply branded with the owner's mark and 
turned out to range where they will, being looked after 
occasionally by a mounted ranchero^ whose horse is 
trained to dexterity in running among or around them. 
Stables for horses I have seen ; but such a thing as an 
honest, straight-out barn has not blessed my eyes in 
connection with any farm since I left civilized Kansas — 
if even there. A Californian would as soon think of 
cutting hay for the sustenance of his family as for that 
of his herd. . In fiict, winter is, after spring, his cattle's 
best season — that in which they can best take care of 
themselves with regard to food. From August to No- 
vember is their hardest time. But the herbage which 
rendered the hills and plains one vast flower-garden in 
spring is, though dead and dry as tinder, still nutritious ; 
its myriad flowers have given place to seeds which have 
the qualities of grain ; and, if the range be broad 
enough, cattle which have nought to do but forage, con- 
trive to eke out a pretty fair living. But it were absurd 
to suppose that a single crop of dead herbage can af- 



328 CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 

ford, acre for acre, equal nourishment with the con- 
stantly renewed grasses of an eastern pasture ; and 
many herds suifer from want of consideration of this 
fact. As ranches are multiplied and herds increased, a 
change of system becomes inevitable. The cattle-grow- 
er must fence off a portion of his range and sow it to 
Indian corn, to sorghum, to turnips, beets, and carrots, 
wh-erewith to supply the deficiency of his summer and 
fall feed. Then he can keep a much larger herd than 
is now profitable if possible, and may double his annual 
product of cheese or butter. At present, I judge this 
product to be smaller per cow or per acre in California 
than ill almost any other state, except what is made in 
the high valleys of the Sierra Xevada. 

Fruit, however, is destined to be the ultimate glory 
of California. [Nowhere else on earth is it produced so 
readily or so bountifully. Such pears, peaches, apricots, 
nectarines, etc., as load the trees of this valley, and of 
nearly every valley in the state which has had any 
chance to produce them, w^ould stagger the faith of 
nine-tenths of my readers. Peach-trees only six years 
set, which have borne four large burdens of fruit while 
growing luxuriantly each year, are quite common. Ap- 
ple-trees, but three years set, yet showing at least a 
bushel of large, fair fruit, are abundant. I have seen 
peach-trees four or five years from the states which have 
all the fruit they can stagger under, yet have grown 
three feet of new wood over this load during the cur- 
rent season. Dwarf-pears, just stuck into the black 
loam, and nowise fertilized or cultivated, but covered 
with fruit the year after they were set, and thencefor- 



CALIFOKNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERLD. 329 

ward bearing larger and larger yields with each suc- 
ceeding summer, are seen in almost every tolerably 
cared-for fruit-patch. I cannot discover an instance in 
which any fruit-tree, having borne largely one year, 
consults its dignity or its ease by standing still or grow- 
ing wood only the next year, as is common our way. 
I have seen green-gages and other plum-trees so thickly 
set with fruit that I am sure the plums would far out- 
weigh the trees, leaves and all. And not one borer, 
curculio, caterpillar, apple-worm, or other nuisance of 
that large and undelightful family, appears to be known 
in all this region. Under a hundred fruit-trees, you 
will not see one bulb which has prematurely fallen — a 
victim to this destructive brood. 

Of grapes, it is hardly yet time to speak so sanguinely 
as many do ; for years will be required to render certain 
their exemption from the diseases and the devastators 
known to other lands of the vine. But it is certain that 
some kinds of grapes have been grown around the old 
Jesuit Missions for generations, with little care and 
much success; while it does not appear that the more 
delicate varieties recently introduced are less thrifty or 
more subject to attack than their Spanish predecessors, 
and vine-yards are being multiplied and expanded in 
almost every farming neighborhood ; single vines and 
patches of choice varieties are shooting up in almost 
every garden throughout the mining regions ; and there 
can be little doubt that California is already better sup- 
plied with the grape than any other state of the Union. 
That she is destined soon to become largely and profit- 
ably engaged in the manufacture and exportation of 



330 CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 

wine, is a current belief here, wliiclilam at once unable 
and disinclined to controvert. 

That California is richest of all the American states 
in timber, as well as in minerals, I consider certain, 
though the forests of Oregon are doubtless stately and 
vast. Even the Coast Range between this valley and 
Santa Cruz on the south-west, is covered by magnificent 
red-wood — some of the trees sixteen feet through, and 
fifty in circumference. In soil, I cannot consider her 
equal to Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, or Minnesota ; though 
the ready markets afforded by her mines to her farms 
probably render this one of the most inviting states to 
the enterprising, energetic husbandman. But it must 
be considered tliat not half the soil of California can 
ever be deemed arable ; the larger area being covered 
by mountains, ravines, deserts, etc. In fact, when one- 
fourth of the entire state shall have been plowed and 
reduced to tillage, 1 judge that the residue might better 
be left to grow timber and grass. Steep, rocky hill-sides 
on whicli no rain falls from June to November, can never 
be tilled to much profit. 

This persistent summer drouth is not an unmixed 
evil. It is a guaranty against many insects, and against 
rust, even in the heaviest grain. Grain and hay are got 
in at far less cost and in much better average condition 
here than they can be where the summers are not 
cloudless and rainless. Weeds are far less persistent 
and pestilent here than at the east ; while the air is so 
uniformly dry and bracing, and the days so generally 
tempered by a fresh breeze, that the human frame main- 
tains its elasticity in spite of severe and continued exer- 



CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDEKED. 331 

tion. I was never before in a region where so much 
could be accomplisliecl to the hand in summer as just 
here. 

And yet — and yet — my early prejudices in favor of 
a refreshing shower occasionally are not fully overcome. 
I dislike to look for miles across so rich and beautiful a 
valley as this of San Jose, and see paralysis and death 
the rule, greenness and life the exception. I dislike to 
see cattle picking at the dry, brown herbage, and can't 
help thinking they would like a field of sweet, green 
clover, or thick blue grass, a good deal better. This 
may be a mistake on my part ; but, if so, it is one that 
does credit to their discernment and taste. And I like 
to see a garden planted in well-grounded reliance on the 
rains of heaven — not dependent for its very existence 
on the " saki," or artificial brook, which I am always 
glad to see flowing into a field, no matter on which side 
of the Kock}^ Mountains. I believe firmly in irrigation ; 
but I prefer land that there is some credit in irrigating, 
to that which must be irrigated, or it might better have 
lain unplowed and unsown. 

Of course it is understood that irrigation is excep- 
tional, even here. All the grains are grown here with- 
out irrigation ; but the small grains are hurried up 
quite sharply by drouth, and in some instances blighted 
by it, and, at best, are doubtless, much lighter than 
they would be with a good, soaking rain early in June ; 
while Indian corn, and most roots and vegetables are 
only, in favored localities, grown to perfection without 
artificial watering. Hence, it is supposed that every 
garden throughout the state, save a part of those near 



332 CALIFORNTA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 

the coast, and witliin tlie immediate influence of the 
damp sea-breeze, must have its stream of water, or it 
comes to nothing, and various devices are employed to 
procure the needful flnid. Of these, I like Artesian 
wells far best ; and they are already numerous, especi- 
ally in this valley. But ordinary wells, surmounted 
by windmills, which press every casual breeze into the 
service, and are often pumping up a good stream of 
water Avhile the owner and all hands are asleep, are 
much more common, and are found to answer very 
well ; while some keep their little gardens in fair condi- 
tion by simply drawing water, bucket after bucket, in 
the old, hard way. In the valleys, and perhaps on the 
hill-sides as well, it is generally held that the vine re- 
quires no irrigation, after being set two years ; and the 
better opinion seems to be, that fruit-trees, after two 
years' watering, do better without. I have not yet 
satisfied myself as to the feasibility of superseding irri- 
gation by deep plowing, though my strong conviction 
is, that every orchard and garden sliould be thoroughly 
dug up and pulverized, to a depth of three, if not four 
feet; and that those so treated, would thereafter need 
little, if any, artificial watering. I hope to learn further 
on this point. 

Let me close this too long letter wntli a grateful ac- 
knowledgment to an emigrant — M. Sheals, I read his 
name — who found my trunk by the Three Crossings of 
Sw^eetwater (not in the stream, as I supposed it was) and 
brought it along over three hundred miles to Salt Lake 
City, where he delivered it to the California Stage Com- 
pany, which forwarded it to me. Mr. Sheals whites 



4 



CALIFORNIA PHYSICALLY CONSIDERED. 333 

that he found it in, or beside the road broken open ; 
but, as I do not miss any papers of consequence, I pre- 
sume nothing of much value to me was taken from it. 
How it came in the road — the half-mile between the 
station, whence we started that morning, and the ]>lace 
where I missed it, having been twice ridden over in 
quest of it within half an hour after its loss — I have not 
yet been able to conjecture, and I will thank whoever 
can, to shed even a ray of light on the subject. If Mr. 
Sheals will favor me with his address, he will add sensi- 
bly to the debt I already owe him. 



XXXI. 

CALIFORNIA— HER RESOURCES. 

Marysville, Cal, Sep. 2, 1859. 

Since my last, I liave traversed the rich valley of San 
Jose, lookhig througli some of its choicer gardens and 
orchards, and stopping at Santa Clara, Warm Spring, 
Old Mission, San Leandro (county seat of Alameda), 
and Oakland, returning to San Francisco, and coming 
thence by steamboat to Sacramento and by a much 
smaller boat up to this city, which I reached last even- 
ing, in season to listen to the annual address, by Mr. 
Rhodes of Oroville, at the agricultural fair, and to break 
my own voice for a time in attempting to follow him in 
some oif-hand remarks. The edifice erected by the 
public spirit of Marysville for the fairs which are to be 
held here annually, and at which all northern California 
is invited to compete for very liberal premiums, is quite 
spacious and admirably adapted to all its purposes except 
that of public speaking; and herein is collected the 
finest show of fruits and vegetables I ever saw at any- 
thing but a state fair. Indian corn not less than twenty 
feet high ; squashes like brass kettles and water-melons 
of the size of buckets, are but average samples of the 
wonderful productiveness of the Sacramento and Yuba 
valleys, wdiile the peaches, plums, pears, grapes, apples, 
etc., could hardly be surpassed anywhere. The show of 
animals is not extensive, but is very fine in the depart- 



CALIFOKNIA HEK EESOURCES. 335 

ments of horses and horned cattle, though himentably 
meager in everj other respect. The most interesting 
featore of this show was its young stock — calves and 
colts scarcely more than a year old, equal in weight and 
size, while far superior in form and symmetry, to ave- 
arge horses and balls of ripe maturity. With generous 
fare and usage, I am confident that steers and heifers 
two' years old in California will equal in size and devel- 
opment those a year older in our northern states, and 
that California colts of three years will be fully equal to 
eastern colts of like blood and breeding a good year 
older — an immense advantage to the breeder on the 
Pacific. I am reliably assured that steers a year old, 
never fed but on wild grass, and never sheltered, have 
here dressed six hundred pounds of fine beef. Un- 
doubtedjy, California is one of the cheapest and best 
stock-growing countries in the world — and will be, after 
these great, slovenly ranches shall have been broken up 
into neat, modest farms, and when the cattle shall be fed 
at least three months in each year on roots, hay and 
sorghum, or other green fodder. 

Marysville is the chief town of northern California, 
and disputes the claim of Stockton to rank third among 
the cities of the state. Unlike Stockton, it is quite 
compactly built, mainly of brick. Its poj)ulation is 
probably a little over fifteen thousand ; and it expects 
to be soon connected by railroad with Sacramento and 
San Francisco, which will give a new and strong im- 
pulse to its already rapid growth. Located at the junc- 
tion of the Yuba and Feather Rivers, just above their 
union with the Sacramento, and at the head of steam- 



336 CALIFOKNIA HER RESOUECES. 

boat navigation in tlie direction of the northern mines, 
it needs but the raib-oad connections aforesaid to render 
it a formidable rival to Sacramento herself. The census 
of 1870 will probably find its population exceeding fifty 
thousand. 

The valleys of the rivers first named are exceedingly 
deep and fertile, and their productiveness in this vicin- 
ity almost surpasses belief. I visited in the suburbs 
this morning, gardens, vineyards, orchards, of rarely 
equaled fruitfulness. The orchard of Mr. Briggs, for 
example, covers a hundred and sixty acres, all in young 
fruit, probably one-half peaches. He has had a squad 
of thirty or forty men picking and boxing peaches for 
the last month, yet his fruit by the cart-load ripens and 
rots un gathered. The wagons which convey it to the 
mines have their regular stations and relays of horses 
like mail-stages, and are thus pulled sixty miles up 
rough mountain-passes, per day, where twenty-five miles 
would be a heavy day's work for any one team. But 
he is not sending to the mines only, but by steamboat 
to Sacramento and San Francisco as well. His sales 
last year, I am told, amounted to $90,000 ; his net in- 
come was not less than $40,000. And this was realized 
mainly from peaches, apricots and nectarines ; his ap- 
ples and pears have barely begun to bear ; his cherries 
will yield their first crop next year. There are of course 
heavier fruit-growers in California than Mr. Briggs, but 
he may be taken as a fair sample of the class. Their 
sales will doubtless be made at lower and still lower 
prices ; they are now a little higher than those realized 
for similar fruit grown in New- Jersey ; they were once 



CALIFORNIA HEK EESOUKCES. 337 

many times higher than now ; but, though their prices 
steadily decrease, their incomes do not/because their 
harvests continued to be augmented by at least twenty- 
five per cent, per annum. ^ 

Let me give one other instance of successful fruit- 
growing in another district : Mr. Fallon, the Mayor of 
San Jose, has a fine garden, in which are some ten or 
twelve old pear-trees — relics of the Spanish era and of 
the Jesuit missions. The trees being thrifty but the 
fruit indifierent, Mr. F. had them pretty thoroughly 
grafted with the Bartlett variety, and the second year 
thereafter gathered from one tree, one thousand pounds 
jof Bartlett pears, which he sold for two hundred dol- 
lars, or twenty cents per pound. The other trees simi- 
larly treated, bore him six to seven hundred pounds 
each of that large, delicious fruit, which he sold at the 
same price. And, every year since, these trees have 
borne large yields of these capital pears. I dare not 
hope for equal success in the east, but surely the expe- 
dient of grafting fine, large varieties on our now worth- 
less pears, at the same time bounteously enriching the 
soil beneath them, ought to be more generally adopted 
than it has yet been. 

Just a word now on grain. California is still a young 
state, whose industry and enterprise are largely devoted 
to mining ; yet she grows the bread of her half a mil- 
lion well-fed inhabitants on less than a fortieth part of 
her arable soil, and will this year have some to spare. 
I am confident her wheat-crop of 1859 is over four mil- 
lions of bushels, and I think it exceeds twenty-five 
bushels for each acre sown. To-day, its price in San 

15 



338 CALIFORNIA — HEE KESOUKCES. 

Francisco is below a dollar per bushel, and it is not 
likely to rise very soon. Thongli grown, harvested and 
threshed by the help of labor w^hich costs her farmers 
from thirty to forty dollars per month, beside board, it 
is still mainly grown at a profit ; and so of a very large 
breadth of barley, grown here instead of oats as food 
for working horses and cattle. Though wheat is proba- 
bly the fullest, I judge that barley is the surest of any 
grain-crop grown in the state. It has never failed to 
any serious extent. 

Indian corn is not extensively grown ; only^he Rus- 
sian River and one or two other small valleys are gen- 
erally supposed well adapted to it. And yet, I never 
saw larger nor better corn growing than stands to-day 
right here on the Yuba — not a few acres merely, but 
hundreds of acres in a body. I judge that nearly all 
the intervales throughout the state would produce good 
corn, if well treated. On the hill-sides, irrigation may 
be necessary, but not in the valleys. ISTone has been 
resorted to here; yet the yield of shelled grain will 
range between seventy-five and a hundred bushels per 
acre. And this is no solitary instance. Back of Oak- 
land, across the bay from San Francisco, Mr. Hobart, a 
good farmer from Massachusetts, showed me acres of 
heavy corn which he planted last May, after the rains 
had ceased and the dry season fairly set in, since which 
no hoe nor plow lias been put into the field ; yet the 
soil remains light and porous, while there are very few 
weeds. I^ot one drop of water has been applied to this 
farm ; yet here are not only corn, but potatoes, beets, 
etc., with any number of young fruit-trees, all green 



CALIFORNIA HER RESOURCES. 339 

aud thriving, bj virtue of subsoiling and repeated plow- 
ings last spring. The ground (sward) was broken up 
early in the winter, and cross-plowed whenever weeds 
showed their heads, until planting-time ; and this disci- 
pline, aided by the drouth, has prevented their starting 
during the summer. Such thorough preparation for a 
crop costs something; but, this once made, the crop 
needs here only to be planted and harvested. Such 
farming pays. 

The fig-tree grows in these valleys side by side with 
the apple ; ripe figs are now gathered daily from nearly 
all the old Mexican gardens. The olive grows finely 
in Southern California, and I believe the orange and 
lemon as well. But the grape bids fair to become a 
staple throughout the state. Almost every farmer, who 
feels sure of his foot-hold on the land he cultivates, 
either has his vineyard already planted, or is preparing 
to plant one, while most of those who have planted 
are extending from year to year. I have looked 
through many of these vineyards, without finding one 
that is not thrifty — one that, if two years planted, is 
not now loaded with fruit. Tlie profusion and weight 
of the clusters is marvelous to the fresh beholder. I 
will not attempt to give figures ; but it is my deliberate 
judgment that grapes may be grown here as cheaply 
as wheat or corn, pound for pound, and that wine will 
ultimately be made here at a cost per gallon not ex- 
ceeding that of whisky in Illinois or Ohio. Wine will, 
doubtless, constitute a heavy export of California within 
a very few years. So, I think, will choice timber, 
should the wages of labor even fall here so as to approx- 



340 CALIFORNIA HER RESOURCES. 

imate our Eastern standards. At present, I estimate 
the average cost of labor in California at just about 
double the rates paid for such labor in the Middle states ; 
which, with wheat and beef at New York prices, or 
lower, and clothing little higher in a climate which re- 
quires little fuel, ought to make the condition of the 
effective worker here a very fair one. Such I consider 
it to be ; while I am assured by practical men that a 
fall of even twenty-five per cent, in wages would incite 
a large and prompt extension of mining, farming, etc., 
affording employment to additional thousands of labor- 
ers. Shonld fair, average day-labor ever fall here to 
a dollar per day, I think the demand for it in mining 
would very speedily be doubled, and soon quadrupled. 
I do not imply that such reduction is either desirable or 
probable ; but I can see why the owners of large estates 
or of mining claims should strongly desire an ample 
and incessant immigration. Tins is plain enough; 
while it is not so obvious, though I deem it equally 
true, that an immigration of one hundred thousand 
effective workers per annum, would be readily absorbed 
by California, and would add steadily and immensely 
to her prosperity and wealth. 

Yet I cannot conclude this survey without alluding 
once more to the deplorable confusion and uncertainty 
of land titles, which has been, and still is the master- 
scourge of this state. The vicious Spanish-Mexican sys- 
tem of granting lands by the mere will of some provin- 
cial governor or municipal chief without limitation as 
to area, or precise delineation of boundaries, here de- 
velops and matures its most pernicious fruits. Your 



CALIFORNIA — HEB EES0URCE8. 341 

title may be ever so good, and yet your farm be taken 
li'om under you by a new survey, proving that said 
title does not cover your tract, or covers it but par- 
tially. Hence, many refuse or neglect to improve the 
lands they occupy, lest some title adverse to theirs be 
established, and they legally ousted, or compelled to 
pay heavily for their own improvements. And, in ad- 
dition to the genuine Spanish or Mexican grants, which 
the government and courts must confirm and uphold, 
there are fictitious and fraudulent grants — some of them 
only trumped up to be bought ofi", and often operating 
to create anarchy, and protract litigation between set- 
tlers and the real owners. Then there are, doubtless, 
squatters, who refuse to recognize and respect valid 
titles, and waste in futile litigation the money that 
might make the lands they occupy indisputably their 
own. I blame no j)arty exclusively, while I entreat the 
state and federal governments and courts to do their 
utmost to settle the titles to lands in this state beyond 
controversy, at the earliest possible day. Were the 
titles to lands in California to-day as clear as in Ohio 
or Iowa, nothing could check the impetus with which 
California would bound forward in a career of unpar- 
alleled thrift and growth. It were far better for the state 
and her people that those titles were wrongly settled, 
than that they should remain as now. I met to-day an 
intelligent farmer, who has had three difi*erent farms in 
this state, and has lost them successively by adjudica- 
tion adverse to his title. I would earnestly implore 
grantees and squatters to avoid litigation wherever that 
is possible, and arrest it as soon as possible, eschewing 



342 CALn^OENIA UER IIESOUJRCES. 

appeals, save in flagrant cases, and meeting each other 
half-way in settlement as often as may be. The present 
cost of litigation, enornious as it is, is among the lesser 
evil consequences of this general anarchy as to land- 
titles. 

Should these ever be settled, it will probably be 
found advisable to legislate for the speedy breaking up 
and distribution of the great estates now held under 
good titles by a few individuals. There will never be 
good common schools on, nor about these great domains, 
which will mainly be inhabited by needy and thriftless 
tenants, or dependents of the landlords. An annual 
tax of a few cents per acre, the proceeds to be devoted 
to the erection of school-houses, and the opening of 
roads through these princely estates, would go far to 
eftect the desired end. But, whether by this, or by 
some other means, the beneficent end of making the 
cultivators of the soil their own landlords must some- 
how be attained — the sooner the better, so that it be 
done justly and legally. In the course of several hun- 
dred miles's travel through the best settled portions of 
this state, I remember having seen but two school-houses 
outside of the cities and villages, while the churches 
are still more uniformly restricted to the centers of pop- 
ulation. Whenever the land-titles shall have been set- 
tled, and the arable lands have become legally and 
fairly the property of their cultivators, all this will 
be speedily and happily changed. 

I believe, too, that the time is at hand when some 
modification of the present mining laws will be demand- 
ed and conceded. Hitherto, the operators with pick 



CALIFORNIA HEK RESOURCES. 343 

and pan have been masters of tlie state, and have ruled 
it, like other aristocracies, with a sharp eye to their own 
supposed interests. To dig up a man's fenced garden, 
or dig down his house, in quest of gold, is the legal 
privilege of any miner who does not even pretend to 
have any rights in the premises but such as the pre- 
sumed existence of gold thereon gives him. Of course, 
the law contemplates payment for damages sustained ; 
but suppose the digger is pecuniarily irresponsible, and 
digs down your house without finding any more gold 
than he spends in the quest, what are you to do about 
it ? Such laws, I trust, cannot stand. I am sure they 
should not. 



XXXII. 

CALIFORNIA-SUMMING UP. 

San Francisco, Sept. 4-5, 1859. 
The entire area of this state is officially estimated as 
containing a fraction less than one hundred millions of 
acres ; but, as this total includes bays as well as lakes, 
rivers, etc., the actual extent of unsubmerged land can 
hardly exceed ninety millions of acres, or rather more 
than nine times the area of JSTew Hampshire or Ver- 
mont — perhaps twice the area of the state of ITew York. 
It is only a guess on my part, but one founded on con- 
siderable travel and observation, which makes not more 
than one-third of this extent — say thirty millions of 
acres — properly arable ; the residue being either rugged- 
ly mountainous, hopelessly desert, or absorbed in the 
tuU marshes which line the San Joaquin and perhaps 
some other rivers. The arable thirty millions of acres 
— nearly the area of all I^ew England, except Maine — 
are scarcely equaled in capacity of production by any 
like area on earth. They embrace the best vine-lands 
on this continent, to an extent of many millions of acres 
— an area capable of producing all the wine and all the 
raisins annually consumed on the globe. All the fruits 
of the temperate zone are grown here in great luxuri- 
ance and perfection, together with the fig, olive, etc., to 
which the lemon and orange may be added in the 
south. ]^o other land on earth produces wheat, rye, 



CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 345 

and barley so largely with so little labor as the great 
majority of these thirty million acres ; a portion of 
them are well adapted also to Indian corn. To stock- 
growing in an easy, slovenly, reckless w^ay, this mild 
climate and fertile soil also lend themselves readily ; 
yet I must believe that many more acres are required 
here to graze a thousand head of cattle than in 'New 
York or Kentucky, and that the capacities of California 
to furnish beef and milk in this poor fashion have been 
taxed very nearly to the utmost. Doubtless, four, six, 
or even ten times the present number of cattle w^ill be 
fed here at some future day, but not wholly on the 
spontaneous grow^th of the valleys and hill-sides. Nay, 
I hear already that, as the wild oats and natural grasses 
are closely fed year after year, so as to preclude their 
seeding or prevent the seed falling to the earth and ger- 
minating, they gradually die out, and are supplanted 
by coarse, worthless weeds. Evidently — and I rejoice 
over the fact — the day of ranches, or broad unfenced 
domains over which the cattle of the owner range at 
will, protected only by his brand from indiscriminate 
appropriation, is passing away for ever. And it is high 
time. Though the range is yet many acres per head, 
and the feed ample for the greater part of the year, yet 
the cows of California give less milk to-day than a like 
number kept for milk on any other portion of the globe. 
The dry grass and stubble on which they subsist keep 
them in fair flesh, but furnish a scanty overplus for but- 
ter and cheese. Good butter is worth fifty cents and 
over per pound, and has generally at this season a white, 
insipid look, like that made in winter at the east. 

15* 



346 CALIFOENIA SUMMING UP. 

Cheese commands twenty-five cents per pound, and is 
seldom seen on hotel or private tables. Yet the produc- 
tion, though meager, is rapidly increasing; the little 
valleys opening directly on the Pacific, and thus kept 
green by its fogs and damp winds, in spite of the six 
months' absence of rain, yielding it most abundantly. 
A cheese weighing seven hundred and fifty pounds, the 
product of a single dairy, is now here, on its way to the 
State Fair at Sacramento; the large store in which I 
saw it is full, from basement to attic, of California-made 
cheese. Yet California does not nearly supply her own 
wants, whether of cheese or butter, and never will until 
her dairymen shall deem it profitable to shelter their 
stock in winter and supply them with green fodder in 
later summer and fall. "Whenever they shall generally 
devote one-quarter of their lands to growing Chilian 
clover, sowed corn, beets, parsnips and carrots, where- 
with to feed their cows from August to February, they 
will make twice or thrice their present product of butter 
and cheese, and prove theirs one of the best dairy re- 
gions on earth. But habits, especially bad ones, are 
stubborn things, and they will only come to this wisdom 
by degrees. 

Whether California would be a better country if it 
had rain in Summer, I have already somewhat consid- 
ered. That it would be more inviting and attractive in 
aspect, especially to those unaccustomed to such sterility 
tlirough the latter half of each year, cannot be doubted. 
"With such rain, its natural pasturage would sufiice for 
twice its present number of cattle, while cultivation 
could be extended far up into the mountains, on lands 



CALIFOENIA — SUMMING UP. 347 

now deemed arable only when irrigated. Yet, on the 
other hand, these dry summers have tlieir advantages. 
By their aid, the most bountiful harvests of hay and 
grain are secured in the best order, and by means of the 
least possible labor. Weeds are not half so inveterate 
and troublesome here as in rainy countries. A given 
amount of labor accomplishes far more in any direction 
than at the east. The wise man may start on a jour- 
ney, of business or pleasure, without consulting his 
barometer, and the fool without looking into his alma- 
nac. ITobody, save in winter or early spring, ever casts 
an apprehensive look at the skies ; it may be cloudy or 
foggy, as it often is ; but you know it cannot rain till 
next IN'ovember, and lay your plans accordingly. I 
have passed large fields of standing wheat that have 
been dead-ripe for at least a month; they will shell 
some when cut, but the grain will be bright and plump 
as ever. All through the grain region, you see wheat 
that has been threshed and sacked, and piled up in the 
open field where it grew, to await the farmer's conve- 
nience in taking it to market ; and it may lie so for 
months without damage, unless from squirrels or go- 
phers. Wheat is sown throughout the winter, though 
the earlier sown is the surer. Plowing commences with 
the rains, and sowing should follow as closely as may 
be. Yery decent crops of " volunteer " grain are often 
grown, by simply harrowing in the seed shelled out and 
lost in the process of harvesting — sometimes even 
though the harrowing is omitted. But the ground 
squirrels are apt to intercept tliis process by filling the 
grain-fields with their holes, and eating up all the scat- 



8i8 CALIFOENIA SUMMING UP. 

tered grain and a good deal more. They are a great 
pest in many localities, and stryclmine is freely and ef- 
fectively employed to diminish their numbers. 

THE MOUNTAINS AND MINES. 

I have estimated that barely one-third of the total 
area of un submerged California is perfectly arable : but 
it would be a great mistake to suppose the residue 
worthless. At least thirty millions of acres more are 
covered by rugged hills and mountains, mainly tim- 
bered — much of the timber being large and of the best 
quality. Yellow, pitch and sugar-pine — the pitch-pine 
being scarcely akin to its stunted and scrubby I^ew-Eng- 
land namesake, but a tall and valuable tree — the sugar 
being nearly identical with our white-pine, save that its 
sap is saccharine — white-cedar, red-wood, spruce, bal- 
sam-fir — all these averaging at least twice the size of 
the trees in any forest I ever saw elsewhere, while the 
balsam is just tlie most shapely and graceful tree on 
earth — such are the forests which cover all but the 
snowy peaks of the mountains of California. Trees six 
to eight feet in diameter, are as common in the Sierra 
ji^evada, and I hear in the coast range also, as those 
three to four feet in diameter are (or were) in the pine 
forests of l^ew-York and New-England. Consider that 
these giants look down on the gold mines wherein a very 
large proportion of the most active population of this 
state must for ages be employed, while the agricultural 
districts lie just below them, and even the seaboard 
cities are but a day's ride further, and the value of these 
forests becomes apparent. The day is not distant — 



CALIFOENIA SUMMING UP. 84:9 

there are those living who will see it — when what is 
now California will have a popuMion of three to six 
millions ; then eligible timber-lands in the Sierra will 
be worth more per acre than would now be paid for 
farms in the richest valleys near San Francisco. 

The timber of the lower hills and plains is generally 
oak — short-bodied, wide-spreading^ and of poor quality, 
save for fuel, being brush (easily broken, like a clay 
pipe-stem), and not durable. The more common variety 
looks like the white-oak found in 'New England pas- 
tures, but resembles it in looks only. Live-oak is next 
in abundance, and also a poor article. It has a smooth, 
dark bark, a short, crooked trunk, a profusion of good- 
for-nothing limbs, and small, deep green leaves, which 
defy the frosts of winter. The trunk is often barked by 
vandals for tanning, leaving the tree standing alive, but 
certain to die. Black and rock-oak are found in some 
of the mountain valleys, and seem to be of fair quality. 
Large cotton-wood and sycamore line some of the 
streams, but very sparingly. Her evergreens are the 
pride of California. 

The gold mines are generally found among the foot- 
hills of the Sierra, or in the beds of the streams which 
traverse those hills. In many instances, hills now tower 
where rivers once ran — ^how long since, who may tell ? 
Trees in a state of semi-petrifaction are dug out from 
under hundreds of feet of solid earth, which seems to 
have lain undisturbed for thousands of years. The beds 
of ancient lakes are covered by rugged heights; and, 
these beds being often auriferous, it is one of the arts of 
the miner to know just where to tunnel through the 



350 CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 

"rim rock" so as to strike what was the bottom of the 
lake, and thus extract its gold as cheaply as may be. 
Wasliing the beds of modern streams, which was the 
earliest and most profitable field of mining adventure, 
is now nearly at an end, or turned over to the Chinese, 
who are willing to work hard and steadily for much 
less than will satisfy the aspirations of a Yankee. There 
are still some creek-beds that will pay in winter, when 
water is abundant, that remain to be washed out ; but, 
in the main, river-mining is at its last gasp. Yery few 
dams are being or have recenth^ been constructed to 
turn rivers from their beds and permit those beds to be 
sluiced out ; and I doubt that this special department 
of mining ever paid its aggregate cost. The expense is 
serious; the product often moderate, and subject to 
many contingencies. Henceforth, dams will be con- 
structed mainly to feed the canals or " ditches " whereby 
water is supplied to works that must otherwise be aban- 
doned. Of these ditches, The State Register for 1859, 
has a list of several hundreds in number, amounting in 
the aggregate to five thousand seven hundred and twen- 
ty-six miles of artificial water-courses constructed wholly 
for mining purposes, at a total cost of $13,575,400, or 
about twice that of the original Erie Canal. The largest 
of these ditches is that of the Eureka Canal Company, 
leading water from the north fork of the Cosumnes 
River to Diamond Springs, two hundred and ninety 
miles, at a cost of eighty thousand dollars ; but there are 
many far more expensive and important, being far larger 
and carried over a more difficult country. At the head 
of these stand the Mokelumne-Hill Canal, in Calaveras 



CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 351 

County, only sixty miles long, but costing six hundred 
thousand dollars, the Columbia and Stanislaus, in Tuo- 
lumne County, eighty miles long, which also cost six 
hundred thousand dollars, and the South Yuba Canal, 
in Nevada County, costing five hundred thousand dol- 
lars. Many larger enterprises than even these have 
been projected, but not yet carried out, because capi- 
talists cannot be found willing to supply the needful 
cash. Thus, in Mariposas alone it has been estimated 
that an annual rental of ten millions of dollars would 
be paid for water, could enough of it be had at living 
rates. I merely guess that it could not be paid many 
years. 

I do not suppose that the gold mines of California 
will ever be thorougly worked out — certainly not in the 
next thousand years ; yet I do not anticipate any con- 
siderable increase in their annual production, because I 
deem fifty millions of dollars per annum as much as can 
be taken out at a profit, under existing circumstances. 
The early miners of California reaped what nature had 
been quietly sowing through countless thousands of 
years. Through the action of frost and fire, growth 
and decay, air and water, she had been slowly wearing 
down the primitive rocks in which the gold was origin- 
ally deposited, washing away the lighter matter, and 
concentrating the gold thus gleaned from cubic miles 
of stubborn quartz and granite into a few cubic feet of 
earth at the bottom of her water-courses. Many a 
miner has thus taken out in a day gold which could not 
in weeks have been extracted from the rock where it 
first grew. Even the hills, in which it is now mainly 



352 CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 

found, can be washed down at one dollar or less per 
cubic yard, by the best hydraulic appliances. But 
when the miner is brought face to face with the rough 
granite, which he must drill, and blast, and tunnel for 
all the gold he gets, the case is bravely altered. He 
may make money here ; he sometimes does ; but I am 
sure that, up to this hour, not one quartz-mining enter- 
prize in every four has paid its bare expenses ; and, 
though there will be brilliant exceptions, I am confident 
that quartz-mining, as a whole, will not pay for many 
years to come. Either labor must be cheaper, or the 
process of quartz-mining far more economical and effi- 
cient, or the yield per ton much greater, before one 
undeniably auriferous quartz-vein in ten will pay the 
cos-t of working it. And, while I presume improve- 
ments will, from time to time, be made, I hear doubt- 
ingly the talk of sanguine inventors and operators of 
doubling the product of gold by this or that new amal- 
gamator, or other device. So many of these contrivan- 
ces have proved futile, or of little worth, that I wait. 
Chemical tests indicate that a portion of the gold actu- 
ally contained in the vein-stone (especially if a sulphu- 
ret) is now obtained by the crushing and washing pro- 
cess ; but how soon, or by what process, this proportion 
may be essentially increased, I do not know — who does ? 
And, until it shall be, I must consider quartz-mining, 
with labor at the present rates, the poorest business now 
prosecuted in California. A few, who have struck 
pockets rather than veins of peculiarly rich quartz, are 
making a good thing of it, and their luck is in every 
one's mouth ; but of the hundreds who drive up long 



CALIFOKNIA SUMMING UP. 353 

adits through dead rock, or sink costly shafts to strike 
a veiD at the best point, and find it, after all, too poor 
to pay for working, little is said or thought, till they 
drop into the gulf of acknowledged bankruptcy, and 
pass away. I believe fewer quartz-veins are being 
worked to-day than were some years ago ; I think fewer 
still will be worked a year hence, and thenceforward, 
until cheaper labor, or more effective processes shall 
have rendered quartz-mining a very different business. 
And, until such change is effected, I apj)rehend that 
the annual gold product of California will not be essen- 
tially augmented. 

POPULATION EDUCATION — MOKALS. 

The total population of Upper California (our Cali- 
fornia, in contradistinction to the peninsula still held 
by Mexico), was estimated, on the 1st of January, 1849, 
at twenty-six thousand ; viz. : natives of the coun- 
try (not including Indians) thirteen thousand ; United 
States Americans, eight thousand ; Europeans, five 
thousand. The aborigines were estimated, in 1856, by 
Colonel Renley, superintendent of Indian affairs, at 
sixty-five thousand. I deem this a gross exaggeration. 
Six Indian reservations have been officially established 
in different sections of the state, on which all the In- 
dians have been gathered that could be; and these 
amount to barely seventeen thousand two hundred and 
five, according to the official returns, which, being the 
basis of requisitions on the government, are certain not 
to fall below the truth. I do not believe there are so 
many more Indians in the state ; and, whatever may 



354: CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 

be the number, it is steadily and rapidly diminishing. 
These Indians are generally idle and depraved, while 
the white men who come in contact with them are 
often rascals and ruffians, who hold that Indians have 
" no rights that white men are bound to respect." By 
these, the poor savages are intruded upon, hunted, 
abused, robbed, outraged, until they are themselves 
driven to acts of violence, when a "war" ensues, and 
they are butchered without mercy. If an honest census 
of the various tribes and bands be taken in 1860, their 
number will not be found to much exceed thirty thou- 
sand, which 1870 will find reduced to ten thousand. 
The native or Spanish Californians are already reduced 
in number since 1819, and are now mainly confined to 
the southern agricultural counties. I have not seen 
half a dozen of them in a month's travel through the 
heart of the state. 

The census of 1850 made the total population of Cali- 
fornia (Indians not counted) ninety-two thousand five 
hundred and ninety-seven ; but there were some coun- 
ties from which no returns were received, which, it was 
estimated, would increase the aggregate to one hundred 
and seventeen thousand five hundred and thirty-eight. 
Only two years thereafter, a state census was taken, 
which increased the number to two hundred and sixty- 
four thousand four hundred and thirty-five — it having 
more than doubled (by immigration) in two years. Of 
this number, only twenty -two thousand one hundred and 
ninety-three were females — less than one-tenth of the 
whole ; while the great majority were men in the vigor- 
ous prime of life. The state of public morals among a 



CALIFORNIA SUMMING TP. 355 

population so disproportioned, in a land far removed 
from the restraining influences of home and kindred, 
were better imagined than described. 

To-day, the total population of the golden state (ex- 
cluding Indians) is probably not less than half a million ; 
the census of 1860 will doubtless give a still larger ag- 
gregate. Of these, I judge that some fifty tliousand 
are Chinese, with about an equal number of Europeans 
or Mexicans, not including those who, by treaty or nat- 
uralization, have become American citizens. Of the 
half million, probably seventy-five thousand are under 
eighteen years of age, while perhaps an equal number 
are women and girls over eighteen, though I fear not. 
This would leave three hundred and fifty thousand men, 
including boys over eighteen, nearly all in the prime 
of life — vigorous, active, enterprising, and industrious. 
There are idlers, and drones here as elsewhere; but 
there probably was never before a community of half 
a million people capable of doing so much good work 
in a year as this population of California. The facts 
that they mine gold to the extent of fifty millions of 
dollars annually, while growing four millions of bushels 
of wheat, ^ve millions of bushels of barley, with large 
amounts of other grains and an ample supply of vege- 
tables and fruits for home consumption, would go far 
toward establishing the fact. 

But the industry of California produces important 
results which are not exhibited above. ISTo part of the 
union is making more rapid strides in building, fencing, 
opening farms, setting fruit-trees, breeding stock, etc. 
The number of grape-vines alone was increased from 



856 CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 

1,540,134 in 1856 to 3,954,548 last year, (of wliicli 
1,650,000 were in the southern county of Los Angeles 
alone.) The aggregate will be carried tliis year above 
6,000,000. Los Angeles in 1857 produced 350,000 gal- 
lons of wine. Probably no other market on earth is so 
well supplied with fruit throughout the year as that of 
San Francisco — a city hardly yet ten years old. Straw- 
berries are abundant here to-day, and are in season from 
April to December. Easpberries are ripe in May, and 
are now plentiful and perfect. Peaches are fresh from 
June to I^ovember. Grapes come in July, and are sold 
till December. All these and other fruits require pre- 
paration and outlay before they begin to make returns. 
The orchards and vineyards of California have cost mil- 
lions of dollars, which are destined to return to their 
proprietors with interest in the course of a few years. 
As yet, there are probably more apple-trees in the state 
than there have been gathered bushels of apples up to 
this day. 

The following are the latest school statistics of the 
state that I have been able to find : 

Year. Com. Schools. Teachers. *Pupils. 

1853 53 56 11,242 

1856 313 417 30,019 

1857 367 486 36,222 

Next after the deficiency of w^omen shown to exist in 
the population of California, this "beggarly account" 



* This number of pupils was not in actual attendance on the schools, but 
is a return of all the children between four and eighteen years living in 
the cities or towns which had organized schools. The number who actual- 
ly attended school for even a part of a term was of course much smaller. 



CALIFOKNIA SUMMING UP. 357 

of schools is the darkest shade in the picture. I be- 
lieve I have seen but two school-houses outside of cities 
or considerable villages in the course of my travels 
through the state. And, so long as ranches^ of five 
hundred to many thousand acres each, stand in place of 
small, neat, well-cultivated farms, this deficiency, though 
it may be modified, will continue. 

I have visited several of the common schools of San 
Francisco, and found them admirable in their appoint- 
ments, under intelligent and vigilant supervision, and 
in a high state of efiiciency. There may somewhere be 
better managed Seminaries than the High School, but 
I never entered their doors. Most of the smaller cities 
are taking hold of the subject in the right spirit, but 
under many disadvantages. Youth are too often kept 
away from school to earn money which their parents 
could do without, and many parents wait till they have 
improved their circumstances essentially before they 
think of educating their children. I was told in Marys- 
ville that many of the pupils of fourteen years and up- 
ward, in her schools, were just learning to read. There 
ought to be two thousand good common schools in ope- 
ration this winter in California ; but I fear there will 
not be six hundred. I entreat the early and earnest at- 
tention of her better citizens to her lamentable lack of 
schools. In no way can her energy and wealth be bet- 
ter employed than in multiplying and improving them. 

WHAT IS THE mDUCEMENT FOK FUKTHEK IMMIGRATION? 

I have endeavored so to arrange the facts embodied 
in my letters from this state as to furnish an answer 



358 CALIFORNIA— SUMMING UP. 

to this question. I will here only sum up my conclu- 
sions : 

1. California has still a great need of virtuous, edu- 
cated, energetic women. One hundred thousand more 
of these would find homes and be useful here. Cer- 
tainly, I would advise no woman to pitch into such a 
community devoid of the protection of relatives or 
trusted friends ; but women who can teach, manage a 
dairy, keep house, etc., and do not fancy any useful 
work degrading, are still greatly needed here. House 
servants command twenty to thirty dollars per month ; 
capable female workers in other capacities are paid. in 
proportion. For a resolute, capable young woman, 
who has a married sister or trusted friend here, and who 
is not detained elsewhere by strong natural ties, I believe, 
there is no better country than this. 

Good farmers, who have considerable means, but 
especially those who understand the dairy business, and 
have families who can and will tender them efiicient 
help in it, can also do well here. The naked facts that, 
while wheat now sells for one dollar per bushel, butter 
brings fifty and cheese twenty-five cents per pound, are 
enough to show that dairy-farming is profitable. The 
best grazing country is found along the coast ; but it is 
all good for those who understand it, and are willing to 
grow feed for a part of each year. Bees do far better 
here than elsewhere, are worth one hundred dolhirs per 
hive, and good property at that. Fruit-growing is still 
profitable ; vine-growing will always be. I believe a 
young, energetic, intelligent farmer, with a good wife 
and two thousand dollars or over, can do as well in 



CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 359 

California as elsewhere, in spite of the horrible confu- 
sion of land-titles. Buy no tract of which the title is at 
all doubtful, unless you can buy all the conflicting 
claims, but pay higher for good land well located, and 
as to the ownership of which there is no dispute. Such 
may at all times be found ; if settlers were willing to 
pay for this rather than buy uncertainties at lower 
rates, it would be far better for them. 

I do not think it advisable for young men, or any 
others, to come here expecting to "make their pile," 
and return to the east. The chances for doing this, al- 
ways doubtful, have nearly ceased to exist. Ko more 
merchants or clerks are wanted ; and of those who come 
hereafter, nine-tenths will go back disappointed and im- 
poverished, or stay here paupers. Goods are sold in 
California at as reasonable rates, all things considered, 
as in 'New England or New York, and there are quite 
sellers enough. The chances for " big strikes " in the 
mines are few, and greenhorns cannot share them. 
Mining is reduced to a business, and one, at best, no 
better, in the average, than other business. The men 
w^ho dig the gold carry away but a small share of it. 
Better leave the chances of gold-digging to those who 
understand it. 

As to labor for wages, it is generally well paid here 
— say from twenty -five to forty dollars per month, be- 
side board, and for mechanics still higher. But employ- 
ment is precarious, whether in the cities, or the mines, 
while the farmers are shy of hiring at high wages when 
wheat brings but one dollar per bushel. I cannot con- 
sider it worth any man's while to risk the price of a 



360 CALIFORNIA SUMMING UP. 

passage hither for the chance of getting employment by 
the month. The experiment will usually cost all it 
comes to. If you come to California at all, come to 
stay ; and nowhere else will you find a little money 
more desirable than here. Even one thousand dollars, 
well applied, may, with resolute industry and frugality, 
place you soon on the high road to independence. 

But the steamship's shrill pipe gives warning that I 
must be up and away. I had ardently hoped and ex- 
pected to return by the Butterfield Overland Mail, via 
Los Angeles, Fort Yumas, Tucson, El Paso, etc., but 
this was not to be. These pestilent boils, which are the 
scourge of many overland comers to California, forbid 
it. I have no choice but to return by way of the 
Isthmus, for I can wait no longer. And so, as the good 
steamer Golden Age swings from her moorings, I wave 
to my many and generous friends in California — whose 
number I trust my visit has not tended to diminish — a 
fervent and hearty adieu I 



XXXII. 

CALIFORNIA— FINAL GLEANINGS. 

Steamship Golden Age, Pacific Ocean, Sept. 9. 1 859. 
Though my overland journey is ended, some facts 
gathered in its last stages remain to be noted. They 
relate exclusively to the moral and intellectual well- 
being and prospects of the golden state. 

RELIGION. 

Tlie last State Register gives a tabular view of reli- 
gious denominations, making two hundred and sixteen 
Christian, and five Jewish congregations in tlie state, 
with two hundred and eighty-nine Christian, and three 
Hebrew clergymen. Of the Christian, one hundred and 
thirty-three — nearly one half — are Methodists, and sev- 
enty-one — nearly one-fourth — are Roman Catholics. I 
hear from difierent quarters that the Methodists and 
Catholics manifest generally far more energy and vitality 
than the other churches. The Catholics enjoy certain 
marked advantages over all others. Theirs is the 
church of the old Californians — that is, of the Spanish- 
Mexican population without exception — also a part of 
the Indians. The Catholic inhabitants are estimated to 
exceed one hundred thousand. But the old church is 
strong in position and wealth, as well as numbers. 
Much of the most valuable land in the state was long 
since conceded by Spanish or Mexican officials to the 
Catholic missions ; and, though a good deal of this has 

16 



362 CALIFOKNIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 

been clutclied by squatters, a very valuable property 
still remains. Santa Clara College, near San Jose, is 
probably the best literary institution in the state, and 
attracts many sons of non-Catliolic parents, though a 
Catholic seminary. It has by far the largest theologi- 
cal library to be found on this coast. Oakland College, 
opposite San Francisco, is a young, but thriving semin- 
ary, under Orthodox direction. There is to be a San 
Francisco University, I believe, but is not yet. Whatever 
colleges of a high grade may be established in the state, 
for many years will owe their existence to religion. 

As yet, the great majority of the non-Catholic Cali- 
fornians have no habit of attendance on religious wor- 
ship — no proclaimed attachment to any church what- 
ever. Estimating their number, (not including Chinese 
or Indians) at three hundred and fifty thousand, I judge 
that less than one-tenth of them statedly attend church, 
or make any religious profession. I simply state the 
lacts as they appear to me, without drawing therefrom 
an}^ deduction beyond this : an unsettled, homeless pop- 
ulation rarely or never build churches, or habitually 
frequent them. 

THE PKESS. 

There are between ninety and one hundred periodi- 
cals published in California. Thirty-one of the forty- 
five counties have" each one or more journals. Of 
these, twenty are issued daily — six of them of the 
Buchanan-Lecompton stripe in politics, three anti-Le- 
compton, and only one {The San Francisco Times) 
decidedly republican. The remainder are independent 



CALIFORNIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 363 

— most of them with strong anti-Lecompton proclivities. 
At the head of these stands The Sacrainento Union 
(daily and weekly), which, by means of extensive and 
systematic reporting, presents the fullest and fairest 
account of whatever is said or done in California of any 
journal, and which has, very naturally, the largest and 
widest circulation. Next in importance and influence 
stands The Alta California^ the oldest paper in the 
state, and I believe the first ever issued in San Fran- 
cisco. The Bulletin is the only evening paper issued 
in that city, and is distinguished for the fullness of its 
correspondence. The California Farmer^ by Colonel 
Warren, is the pioneer work in its line, and has hardly 
been exceeded in usefulness to California by any other. 
I trust it has a long and prosperous career before it. 

Of the weekly newspapers issued in the state, twenty- 
five support Lecompton democracy, fourteen are anti- 
Lecompton, only two or three republican ; the residue 
independent — several of them with strong and outspoken 
anti-Lecompton tendencies. It will thus be seen that 
the influence of the local press leans strongly to the side 
of whatever may for the time being be commended as 
regular democracy. No state is more intensely scourged 
by office-seeking than California; offices being here 
numerous and salaries and pickings very fat; hence 
each county has its powerful junto of office-seekers who 
understand (if little else) that the way to their goal lies 
through '' sticking to the party," right or wrong — in 
fact, if it be wrong, the merit of sticking to it is, in the 
party sense, so much greater, and the reward is likely to 
be larger. Intelligent as a majority of the people of 



361 CALIFORNIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 

tliis state are known to be, it is still deplorably true lliat 
the great mass of the facts which impelled and necessi- 
tated the republican movement and organization have 
never been made known through their journals — not 
even througli those of the independent order. To this 
hour, California, otherwise well informed imagines that 
there was no serious struggle in Kansas — or if there 
was, that one side was about as much in fault as the 
other — that Kansas was invaded, her people driven from 
the polls, her ballot-boxes stuffed, and the verdict of her 
settlers falsified (if at all,) as much by republicans 
(whence ?) as by the Missouri border ruffians ! One 
democrat with whom I discussed the matter supposed 
they came over from Iowa ! Had the independent 
press done its simple duty in the premises, such mon- 
strous fabrications could neither be credited nor profit- 
ably coined. But I rejoice in the hope that the break 
on Lecompton insures a ]nore ample and truthful pre- 
sentment of the current history of the o^reat struo-irle 
hereafter. I trust that the people of this state are not 
much longer to be held in the leading-strings of slavery 
and sham-democracy. 

Of the ninety-odd periodicals in California, three are 
printed in the French language, two in Spanish, one in 
German ; and at least one in Chinese. (Whoever would 
subscribe to " The Chinese Netus " should address its 
editor. Hung Tai, at Sacramento.) Six are devoted to 
religion; two to agriculture; nine oi- ten to literature, 
mining, medicine, etc. About one-third of the whole 
number are issued from San Francisco alone. 



CALirOKNIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 365 



SAN FKANCISCO. 

The city of San Francisco is built along tlie eastern 
base and up the side of a row of high sand-hills, which 
stretch southwardly from the Golden Gate, between the 
Pacific ocean on the west and the bay of San Francisco 
on the east. The city has been built out into the bay 
some fifty to a hundred rods by carting in sand from 
the eastern slope of the hills, which are thus left more 
abrupt than they originally were. The compactly built 
district seems rather more than two miles north and 
south, by somewhat less east and west. I judge that 
the city is destined to expand in the main southwardly, 
or along the bay, avoiding the steep ascent toward the 
west. The county covers 26,000 acres, of which one- 
half will probably be covered in time by buildings or 
country-seats. I estimate the present population at 
about 80,000.* It seems not to have increased very 
rapidly for some years past ; and this is as it should be. 
San Francisco has the largest trade of any city on the 
Pacific; but as yet she is the emporium of California 
and Oregon only. A railroad communication with the 
Atlantic states would make her the New- York of this 
mighty ocean — the focus of the trade of all America 
west of the Andes and Pocky Mountains, and of Poly- 
nesia as well, with an active and increasing Australian 
commerce. Without an inter-oceanic railroad, she must 
grow slowly, because the elements of her trade have 



* The S. F. Directory for 1859 makes it 78,083, including 3,150 Chi- 
nese and 1,605 Africans. 



366 CALIFOENIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 

been measured and their limits nearly readied. The 
gold product of this region has for years averaged about 
fifty millions per annum, and is not likely soon to rise 
much above that amount. That sum does not require, 
and will not create, a larger mart than San Francisco 
now is. The horrible anarchy of land titles forbids any 
rapid expansion of agricultural industry hereabouts; 
but if it were to expand, where is its market? Wheat 
is cheaper here to-day than in Kew-York or Liverpool ; 
yet whither can any considerable amount of it be ex- 
ported at a profit ? I do not know. 

With an efficient protective tariff, San Francisco 
would become, what she ought now to be, a great man- 
ufacturing center— the united Manchester and Birming- 
ham of the South Seas. She ought to make half the 
wares she now merely buys and sells. Under our pre- 
sent tariff, with the high rates of labor prevailing in 
this state, this cannot be. She is evidently destined to 
become a great city, but not yet. 

Some of the elements of greatness she certainly has — 
a spacious, secure, magnificent harbor, with easy access 
to the ocean, and a noble river communication inland ; 
a temperate and equable climate — one very favorable 
to the highest efficiency in industry, though I do not 
deem it a pleasant one ; an inexhaustible supply of the 
finest timber close at hand ; the richest mines of the 
precious metals ; and a fertile, beautiful, but not unlim- 
ited agricultural region filling up the interval between 
her and those mines, and stretching hundreds of miles 
north and south. She has a populati<m rarely surpassed 
in intelligence, enterprise, and energy. Add to these a 



CALIFOENIA FINAL GLEANINGS. 367 

railroad and telegraph to tlie Atlantic, and she could 
hardly fail to grow in population, trade, industry, and 
wealth, witli a rapidity for which there have been few 
precedents. 

San Francisco has some fine buildings, but is not a 
well-built city — as, indeed, how could she be? She is 
hardly yet ten years old, has been three or four times 
in good part laid in ashes, and is the work mainly of 
men of moderate means, who have paid higher for the 
labor they required than was ever paid elsewhere for 
putting so much wood, stone, l^rick and mortar into 
habitations or stores. Her growth for the first five years 
of her existence was very rapid ; but Pottsville, Chica- 
go, Liverpool, have also had rapid growths, and St. 
Louis is now expanding faster than this city has done 
since 1852. Cities are created and enlarged by the 
wants of populations outside of their own limits ; San 
Francisco will take another start w^ien she shall have 
become beneficent if not indispensable to a much larger 
radius than that now buying and selling mainly through 
her. In the hope that the time for this is not far dis- 
tant, I bid her God speed. 



XXXIY 

A RAILROAD To THE PACIFIC. 

New York, Oct. 20, 1859. 

I PEOPOSE in this letter to present such considerations 
as seem to me pertinent and feasible, in favor of the 
speedy construction of a railroad, connecting at some 
point our eastern network of railways with the waters 
of the Pacific ocean. 

Let facts be submitted to, and pondered by consid- 
erate, reflecting men. There are thousands of usually 
intelligent citizens, who have decided that a Pacific 
railroad is a humbug — the fantasy of demagogues and 
visionaries — without having ever given an hour's earnest 
consideration to the facts in the case. Let me have a 
patient hearing while 1 set forth some of the more ma- 
terial of those facts : and first, in answer to the question, 
Is there a national need of a railroad from the Missouri 
to the Pacific? Let us study the records : 

The number of passengers arriving at, and departing 
from San Francisco by water, so far as we have ofliciai 
returns of them, is as follows : 

Tears. Arrivals. Departures. 

1849 91,415 No returns. 

1850 36,462 No returns. 

1851 27,182 No returns. 

1852 66,988 22,946 

1853 33,232 30,001 

1854 47,531 23,508 

1855 29,198 22,898 

1856 28,119 22,747 

1857 22,990 16,902 

Total 381,107 139,002 



A KAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. 369 

Of course, these were not all from the Atlantic slope, 
via the Isthmus, or Nicaragua ; but the great mass of 
them were. Probably most of those brought by small 
vessels from the Pacific ports were not reported to, ot 
recorded at the custom-house at all. There were som-e 
immigrants to California, who did not land at San Fran- 
cisco ; though the great mass undoubtedly did. Then 
there was a heavy, though capricious overland emigra- 
tion. Governor Bigler stated the number in 1854 alone 
at sixty-one thousand four hundred and sixty-two ; and 
there was a very large migration across the Plains in 
1852. In 1857, the number was estimated at twelve 
thousand five hundred. This year, my estimate of the 
number, founded on personal observation, is thirty 
thousand ; but others make it forty thousand to sixty 
thousand. There was, also, a very considerable emi- 
grant movement across the Plains in an easterly di- 
rection. So far, I have taken no account of the emi- 
gration to, and travel from Oregon and "Washington. 
I know I am within bounds in estimating the number 
who have passed from the Atlantic slope to California 
and Oregon or Washington at an average of fifty thou- 
sand, while the average number who have annually 
returned thence cannot have fallen below thirty thou- 
sand. 

Can there be any doubt thai; nine-tenths of these 
would have traveled by railroad, had such a road 
stretched from the Missouri or Mississippi to the Pacific, 
the fare being moderate, and the passage made within 
ten days? I estimate that twice to thrice the num- 
ber who actually did go to California would have gone, 

16* 



3T0 A RAILEOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

had tliere been such a means of conveyance, and that 
the present Anglo-American population of the Pacific 
slope would have been little less than two millions — say 
California, one million five hundred thousand ; Oregon, 
three hundred thousand ; Washington, one hundred 
thousand ; Sonora and Mexican California, one hundred 
thousand. 

E'ow as to the gold crop of California : 

The custom-house returns of San Francisco show the 
following shipments of gold from that city. 

Tear. Amount. Year. Amount 



1849 $4,921,250 

1850 27,676,346 

1851 42,582,695 

1852 46,586,134 



1853 $57,331,024 

1854 51,328,653 

1855 43,080,211 

1856 48,887,543 



1857 $48,592,743 

The returns for the last two years, and the first three 
quarters of the present are not before me ; but they are 
known to have varied little from the rate of fifty mil- 
lions of dollars per annum, making the total amount 
entered at the custom-house of San Francisco, as shipped 
at that port up to this date, rather over five hundred 
millions of dollars. How many more millions have been 
brought away in the trunks or belts of returning emi- 
grants, or mercantile passengers, I will not attempt to 
guess ; but the amount is certainly large. On my re- 
cent trip homeward, one of the steerage passengers was 
currently reported as having thirty thousand dollars in 
gold in his carpet-bag, which he kept in his hands or 
under his head ; others were said to have their thou- 
sands each, to a very large aggregate amount. Mani- 



A KAILEOAD TO THE PACIFIC 3Y1 

festly, the export of gold from California, the current 
produce of her mines, has exceeded fifty millions of dol- 
lars per annum, while a considerable amount is retained 
in the country. 

Now all this gold is sent away to pay for goods — 
many of them very costly in proportion to their bulk 
and weight — silks and other dear textile fabrics ; jewel- 
ry; rare wines; expensive wares; drugs, spices, etc. 
Experience has amply proved that all such products 
take the quickest rather than the cheapest route. I be- 
lieve that twenty million dollars of costly or perishable 
merchandise would annually seek California overland if 
there were a continuous line of railway from the Atlan- 
tic to the Pacific seaboard ; and that this amount would 
steadily and rapidly increase. When the Erie Railroad 
earns over three million dollars per annum by freight, it 
certainly must be moderate to hope that ten million 
dollars would be paid as freight on all the merchandise 
gent from this side to the Pacific- by railroad, and that 
the larger share of this freight must be earned by and 
paid to the Pacific road. 

]^ow let us see how far the government would neces- 
sarily patronize such a road : 

Tlie Post-Ofiice Department is now paying at least 
one million and a quarter for the conveyance of mails 
between the Atlantic and Gulf states and California, 
and was recently paying one million and a half. For 
this, it gets a semi-monthly mail by way of the Isthmus 
(six thousand miles, or more than double the distance 
direct), and a semi-weekly mail by the Butterfield route 
(also very circuitous), which carries letters only. There 



372 A KAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

are two or three slow mails on other routes, but they 
cannot be said to add anything of moment to the facili- 
ties enjoyed by California and the older states for the 
interchange of messages or ideas. 

As to military transportation, I cannot say what is its 
amount, nor how far a single line of railway could re- 
duce its proper cost. I believe, however, that the 
government is now paying at least six millions of dollars 
for the transportation of men, munitions and provisions 
to our various military posts between Kansas proper 
and California, and that fully half of this would neces- 
sarily be saved and earned by a railroad to the Pacific. 

Utah is now receiving accessions of population (main- 
ly from Europe) over the Plains, though very much of 
their household stuff has to be sacrificed to the exigen- 
cies of the long, hard, tedious journey in wagons drawn 
by weary, thirsty, famishing cattle. Her people gener- 
ally live poorly, yet they have to eat and drink, while 
most of them like to smoke or chew also. At present, 
most of them abstain from the use of tea, cofi*ee, etc., 
because these are very dear while the Saints are mostly 
poor. K there were a good railroad through Utah from 
Missouri to California, I believe the Saints would patron- 
ize it to the amount of at least half a million per annum, 
and that this amount would rapidly grow to one mil- 
lion. It would of course not stop there. The Kocky 
Mountain gold mines are no longer a matter of specu- 
lation. They just as surely exist as we live; and I be- 
lieve they are destined to increase in importance and 
productiveness. I advise no man to dig gold or start 
for "Pike's Peak." I presume ten of those who go 



A KAILEOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 373 

thither will come back ragged and penniless, for every 
one that they make rich. I expect to hear many times 
yet that the Kansas gold mines are a humbug — that 
they have exj)loded — that every one has left or is leav- 
ing them, etc., etc. — and I expect further to hear of new 
discoveries in this direction or in that, and to record the 
receipts of millions thence in each of the years from 
1861 to 1871 inclusive. Meantime, those who prospect 
or mine there must live — a point to which eating is 
rather essential in that keen mountain air. Everything 
that can be eaten or drank is selling in the Kansas 
mines at far more than California prices. A railroad 
from the Missouri to the heads of the Platte or Arkan- 
sas would reduce, in those mines, the average cost of 
food at least half, and would thereby diminish sensibly 
the cost, and increase the profit of digging gold. If 
one hundred thousand persons can manage to live 
in the Kocky Mountain gold region as it stands, three 
hundred thousand could do better there with a railroad 
up from the Missouri. And that number, if located there, 
could not supply less than three million dollars per annum 
of travel and transportation to a Pacific railroad. 

Let us sum up, now, and see what elements of sup- 
port for such a railroad may be presumed to already 
exist : 



I. Fifty thousand passengers from the Missouri to California 
and thirty tliousand the other way, half first-class at 
$100, and the residue, second-class at $50 each : To- 
tal passage-money. .• $6,000,000 

II. Fifty millions of gold brought from California, now pay- 
ing li per cent, freight and insurance, if charged 1 per 
cent, for conveyance over the railroad would pay 500,000 



374: A EAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIO. 

TTT . Freight on merchandise sent overland to California, say 
$20,000,000 worth, paying at least $5,000,000 freight, 
of which the Pacific Road could not receive less than. . 3,000.000 

TV. Conveyance of troops, with freight on arras, munitions, 
and provisions forwarded to the various military posts 
between the Missouri and California 3,000,000 

Y. Conveyance of a daily mail each way in ten days between 

the Missouri and California, at least 1,000,000 

YL Freight and passage for the Mormons 500,000 

YII. Ditto for the Kansas and Rocky Mountain gold region. . 3,000,000 

Total yearly earnings of the Road $17,000,000 



In this statement, I have made no account whatever 
of India, China, Australia, Polynesia, etc., as taking 
this road in their way to and from either shore of the 
Atlantic. I do not doubt that they would make some 
use of it at first, and more and more annually thereafter ; 
but this is not a resource to be relied on. I count on 
no transportation of aught but passengers and gold from 
California eastward ; though I am sure that much grain 
would flow thence into the xylacers and settlements of 
the Great Basin, especially the rich mines newly dis- 
covered in Carson Yalley. I know that California 
would soon begin to send wines, fruits, etc., eastward, 
and that her wool, hides, etc., would soon follow in their 
path. I can have no doubt that a railroad from the Mis- 
souri to the Pacific would earn seventeen millions of 
dollars the year after its completion, and that its income 
would increase thenceforth at the rate of at least one 
million per annum for ten or fifteen years. 

Let us now consider the political or national necessity 
and use for a railroad from the Missouri to the Pacific : 

1. The Federal government is now paying some 



A RAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. 375 

twenty -five millions per annum for military service, 
mainly west of the Mississippi, l^early half of this 
heavy sum is paid for transportation in its various 
shapes — for the conveyance of provisions, munitions, 
etc., to the army in Utah, and to the various posts scat- 
tered through the Indian country; for horses, mules, 
and wagons, required to facilitate the conveyance of 
soldiers, arms, munitions, and baggage from post to 
post, etc., etc. Every regiment employed in the Indian 
country, or on the Pacific, costs the treasury at least one 
thousand dollars per man per annum, of which I esti- 
mate that nearly half would be saved by a Pacific rail- 
road. Certainly, the saving from this source could not 
fall short of five millions per annum. 

2. But the eflicacy, the power of an armed force, in 
the defense and protection of a vast empire, depend 
less on its numbers than on its mobility — on the facility 
with which it can be conveyed to the point at which it 
may at any time be wanted. For instance, our govern- 
ment has now some six to eight thousand regulars scat- 
tered over Nebraska, Kansas, New Mexico, Northern 
Texas, Utah, California, Oregon, and Washington. 
These six or eight thousand are not as efficient as two 
thousand would be, if it were in the power of the gov- 
ernment instantly to transfer those two thousand, by a 
mere order, to the point at w^iich they might at any 
time be wanted. A Pacific railroad would not, indeed, 
fully efl'ect this ; but it would go far toward it. 

3. Suppose our little army, now largely concentrated 
in Utah, were urgently needed to repel some sudden 
danger, whether on the Pacific or the Atlantic coast : 



376 A KAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

It would be a good three montli's work to provide the 
needful animals, and remove that force to either sea- 
board. But with a Pacific raih-oad, the whole might 
be in IS'ew York, Charleston, New Orleans, or San 
Francisco, within a fortnight after the order was dis- 
patched by telegraph from the War department, at 
Washington. The value of this facility of movement 
can hardly be over-estimated. 

4. At present, the regiments employed on the Pacific 
are almost or quite wholly raised and recruited in the 
Atlantic States. Their removal thence to their desti- 
nation costs largely, heaviiy, in direct expense, and in 
that time which is money. Suppose a regiment to 
cost half a million per annum, and that six months are 
now consumed in sending it from Baltimore to Puget's 
Sound, while one month would sufiice with a Pacific 
railroad. In addition to the saving on the present cost 
of its transportation, the saving in the time of that regi- 
ment would be two hundred thousand dollars directly, 
and practically much more; as a part of the cost of 
recruiting, drilling, etc., now lost in the tedious trans- 
portation, would be saved by the accelerated move- 
ment. 

5. In case of war with any great maritime power, in 
the absence of a Pacific railroad, we should be com- 
pelled either to surrender the Pacific states to subjuga- 
tion and spoliation, or maintain a double armament at 
enormous cost. Our army on this side of the Pocky 
Mountains would be utterly inefi'ective as against an 
expedition launched against the Pacific coast, and vice 
versa. But, with a Pacific railroad, and the telegraph 



A RAILROAD TO THE PACEFIO. 



377 



which would inevitably accompany it, it would be 
morally impossible that an expedition directed against 
either seaboard, should not be anticipated in its arrival 
by the concentration, to oppose its landing, of our sol- 
diers, drawn from every part of the country. Our gov- 
ernment, in aiding the construction of such road, w^ould 
inevitably stipulate for its use— exclusive, if required— 
in times of public peril ; and would thus be enabled to 
transfer fifty thousand men from either coast to the 
other in the course of twenty or thirty days. 

6. We have already expended some scores of millions 
of dollars on fortifications, and are urgently required to 
expend as many more. Especially on the Pacific is 
their construction pressingly demanded. I do not de- 
cide how fast nor how far this demand may or should be 
responded to; but I do say that a Pacific raih-oad, 
whereby the riflemen of the mountains could be brought 
to the Pacific within three days, and those of the Mis- 
souri within ten, would aiford more security to San Fran- 
cisco than ever so many gigantic and costly fortifica- 
tions. 

But enough on this head. 

The social, moral, and intellectual blessings of a Paci- 
fic railroad can hardly be glanced at within the limits 
of an article. Sufiice it for the present that I merely 
suggest them. 

1. Our mails are now carried to and from California 
by steamships, via Panama, in twenty to thirty days, 
starting once a fortniglit. The average time of transit 
from writers throughout the Atlantic states to their cor- 
respondents on the Pacific exceeds thirty days. With 



378 A RAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

a Pacific railroad, this would be reduced to ten ; for the 
letters written in Illinois or Michigan would reach their 
destinations in the mining counties of California quicker 
than letters sent from 'New York or Philadelphia would 
reach San Francisco. With a daily mail by railroad 
from each of our Atlantic cities to and from California, 
it is hardly possible that the amount of both letters and 
printed matter transmitted, and consequently of postage, 
should not be speedily quadrupled. 

2. The first need of California to-day is a large influx 
of intelligent, capable, virtuous women. With a railroad 
to the Pacific, avoiding the miseries and perils of six 
thousand miles of ocean transportation, and making the 
transit a pleasant and interesting overland journey of 
ten days, at a reduced cost, the migration of this class 
would be immensely accelerated and increased. With 
wages for all kinds of women's work at least thrice as 
high on the Pacific as in this quarter, and with larger 
opportunities for honorable and fit settlement in life, I 
cannot doubt that tens of thousands would annually 
cross the Plains, to the signal benefit of California 
and of the whole country, as well as the improvement 
of their own fortunes and the profit of the railroad. 

3. Thousands now staying in California, expecting to 
^' go home " so soon as they shall have somewhat im- 
proved their circumstances, would send or come for 
their families and settle on the Pacific for life, if a rail- 
road were opened. Tens of thousands who have been 
to California and come back, unwilling either to live 
away from their families or to expose them to the pre- 
sent hardships of migration thither, would return with 



A RAILROAD TO THE PACITIC. ST9 

all tliey have, prepared to spend tlieir remaining days 
in the land of gold, if there were a Pacific railroad. 

4. Education is the vital want of California, second 
to its need of true women. School-books, and all the 
material of education, are now scarce and dear there. 
Almost all books sell there twice as high as here, and 
many of the best are scarcely attainable at any rate. 
AVith the Pacific raih-oad, all this would be changed for 
the better. The proportion of school-houses to grog- 
shops would rapidly increase. All the elements of 
moral and religious melioration would be multiplied. 
Tens of thousands of our best citizens would visit the 
Pacific coast, receiving novel ideas and impressions, to 
their own profit and that of the people thus visited. 
Civilization, intelligence, refinement, on both sides of 
the mountain — still more, in the Great Basin inclosed 
by them — would receive a new and immense impulse, 
and the Union would acquire a greater accession of 
strength, power, endurance, and true glory, than it would 
from the acquisition of the whole continent down to 
Cape Horn. 

The only points of view in which a railroad from the 
Missouri to the Pacific remains to be considered are 
those of its practicability, cost, location, and the ways 
and means. Let us look at them : 

I. As to practicability, there is no room for hesitation 
or doubt. The Massachusetts Western, the Erie, the 
Pennsylvania, and the Baltimore and Ohio, have each 
encountered difldculties as formidable as any to be over- 
come by a Pacific railroad this side of the Sierra Neva- 
da. Were tlie railroad simply to follow the principal 



380 A KAILIIOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

emigrant trail up tlie Platte and down the Snake and 
Columbia to Oregon, or south-westwardly from the 
South Pass to the foot of the Sierra, it would encounter 
no serious obstacle. 

11. The deai'th of timber on the plains is the chief 
difficulty to be overcome ; and this, with the prevalence 
of deep snows in and about the South Pass, v^^ill proba- 
bly send the road considerably north or south of that 
famous and facile pass. I presume the shortest, most 
feasible, and best wooded route for a railroad from the 
Mississippi to the Pacific is one from Minnesota to Pu- 
get's Sound, leaving the Rocky Mountains, save some 
low spurs, on the south, and encountering less formida- 
ble snows than those of the North Platte, South Pass, 
and Green Piver. Another pretty well timbered and 
direct route, with but a moderate elevation at the pass 
of the Pocky Mountains, strikes westward from Du- 
buque to the Yellow Stone, follow^s one of the sources 
of tbat stream into and through the Pocky Mountains, 
and thence down a similar stream to the Columbia, and 
so through Oregon to Astoria. By taking this route, 
the timber of the Pocky Mountains could be cheaply 
rafted or floated to every part of the track on either 
side at which timber is naturally deficient. The routes 
which turn the Pocky Mountains and tlie Sierra ITeva- 
da by the south are necessarily longer than those above 
indicated (the earth's circumference l)eing greater toward 
the equator than near the pole), traverse in good part a 
parched and sterile desert, and must encounter serious 
obstacles in the dearth of water and in crossing: the Pio 



A KAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 381 

Del ^orte and Colorado. They would, however, rarely 
or never be formidably obstructed by snow. 

In my judgment, however, the preferable, though 
not the easiest route for a Pacific road traverses the 
valleys of the Kansas and its Smoky Hill fork, crossing 
thence to the more northerly sources of the xirkansas, 
and passing with one of them through the Eocky 
Mountains, not far from the South Park, thence wind- 
ing down some tributary to the Colorado, thence up a 
western fork or valley and down the Timpanagos or 
some such stream into Utah, and through that territory 
on or near Capt. Simpson's new road to the valley of 
the Carson, Truckee, or whatever stream should be found 
to proffer the least difficult way across the Sierra E'eva- 
da, to San Francisco. A railroad on this route would 
at once command a large and lucrative traffic from the 
Kansas gold region, from Utah, and from the newly-dis- 
covered but rich and growing gold region of Carson 
Yalley or western Utah — soon, I trust, to be the terri- 
tory of N'evada. Thousands have recently been drawn 
to Carson Yalley by the fame of these mines ; and the 
fact being established that gold, silver, and other valua- 
ble metals are found in Carson Yalley, it is at least 
strongly probable that they will be found elsewhere 
along the eastern base of the Sierra E'evada. A rail- 
road on this route would have an immediate and lars^e 
local traffic, both in passengers and goods, from Califor- 
nia to Carson Yalley, from Missouri and Kansas to the 
Rocky Mountain gold region, and from each to Utah. 
Its mails, too, would be heavier and far, far more be- 
neficent, than if conveyed by any other route. I judge, 



3S2 A KAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

therefore, that on this route the raih'oad is most likely 
to be built, unless future developments of mineral 
wealth north or south of it should change the whole 
aspect of affairs. 

III. And now as to cost and the ways and means : 
This road cannot be built cheaply ; for provisions and 
all the necessaries of life must rule high along its line, 
and most of the laborers will have to be carried thither. 
Yet it is ])ut fair to consider that many of the heaviest 
items of expense on most other railroads — land and land 
damages, timber, stone, etc. — will here cost nothing but 
the labor of preparing them for this use. Then the 
rock-cutting will, in the average, be light, and the 
bridging still lighter. For much of the distance, five 
thousand dollars per mile will grade and bridge a double 
track in the very best manner. Doubtless, there are 
miles that would cost $100,000 ; but these are compara- 
tively few ; while the Colorado is the only formidable 
stream to be crossed between the Missouri and the Sa- 
cramento. And, as the road would necessarily be com- 
menced at each end and pushed toward the center, it 
would have a considerable trafiic on the very first hun- 
dred miles that should be completed, and a large one on 
the first five hundred. Were it to be finished next April 
so far as Carson Yalley from the west and " Pike's 
Peak " from the east, I firmly believe that those two 
sections would pay expenses and interest on cost forth- 
with. If so, what might pot be hoped from the com- 
pleted road ? 

Again; it is to be considered that, by building thus 
in sections, each portion, as finished, would be used to 



A KAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 383 

forward provisions, rails, timber, etc., for the next. If 
wheat be worth five dollars per bushel to-day at Den- 
ver, it by no means follows that it would cost half 
so much, with a railroad from the Missouri completed 
nearly or quite to that point. 

I estimate that a railroad from the Missouri at Kansas 
City, Wyandot, Leavenw^orth, Atchison, or St. Joseph, 
to San Francisco, must be nearly or quite two thousand 
miles long, and that it would cost, with a double track 
and fully equipped, seventy-five thousand dollars per 
mile, or one hundred and fifty millions of dollars. A 
sanguine engineer would probably reduce this to fifty 
thousand dollars per mile, or one hundred millions of 
dollars ; but, as most works cost more than they were 
expected to, it is as well to begin with large figures, so 
as not to be disappointed. More than a third of this 
road would build itself — that is, so much of it as lies in 
California, or within the boundaries assigned herself by 
the new state of Kansas, would readily be built by 
private enterprise, if the connecting link were certain 
to be perfected in due season. It seems advisable, how- 
ever, to have a single road, under one direction, from 
the Missouri to the Pacific, and thus make the certain 
profits of the extremities contribute toward the construc- 
tion and support of the less promising center. 

But, supposing the cost of a Pacific railroad to be one 
hundred and fifty millions of dollars, or even one hun- 
dred millions of dollars, how is so large an amount to 
be procured ? 

I answer — not wholly by individual subscription, or 
voluntarily associated enterprise. The amount is too 



384 A KAILEOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

vast; tlie enterprise too formidable; the returns too 
remote and uncertain. In the present depression of 
raih'oad property and interests, an attempt to raise such 
a sum for any such purpose, would be madness. One 
railroad to the Pacific would probably pay ; but what 
assurance could an association of private citizens have, 
that, having devoted their means and energies to the 
construction of such a road, it would not be rivaled 
and destroyed b}^ a similar work on some other route ? 
JSTo hundred millions can be obtained for such an under- 
taking without assurance of government aid. 

But neither will it answer to commit the government 
unqualifiedly to the construction of such a work. Its 
cost, in the hands of Federal functionaries, would be 
incalculable; it would be an infinite source of jobbing 
and partisan corruption ; it would never be finished ; 
and its net revenues would amount to nothing. And 
then the question of location — the conflict of rival inter- 
ests — would alone sufiice to prevent the construction of 
the work by the federal government. 

But let that government simply resolve that the 
Pacific road shall be built — let Congress enact that 
sealed proposals for its construction shall be invited, 
and that whichever responsible company or corporation 
shall oflTer adequate security for that construction, to be 
completed within ten years, on the lowest terms, shall 
have public aid, provided the amount required do not 
exceed fifty millions of dollars, and the work will be 
done, certainly for fifty millions' bonus, probably for 
much less. The government on its part should concede 
to the company a mile in width, according to the section 



A RAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. 385 

lines, of the public lands on either side of the road as 
built, with the right to take timber, stone and earth from 
any public lands without charge ; and should require 
of said company that it carry a daily through-mail each 
way at the price paid other roads for conveying mails 
on first-class routes ; and should moreover stipulate for 
the conveyance at all times of troops, arms, munitions, 
provisions, etc., for the public service, at the lowest 
rates, with a right to the exclusive possession and use 
of the road whenever a national exigency shall seem to 
require it. The government should leave the choice of 
route entirely to the company, only stipulating that it 
shall connect the navigable waters of the Mississippi 
with those of the Pacific Ocean, and that it shall be 
constructed wholly through our own territory. Pay- 
ment of the national bonus to be made, say one-twentieth 
so soon as one-tenth of the road shall have been finished 
and approved, and at this rate until one-third of the 
road shall have been built, when the remainder of one- 
fourth of the bonus shall be paid ; when half the road 
shall have been built, the payment of bonus shall be 
increased to one-third ; when the work is three-fourths 
done, what remains of five-eighths of the bonus shall be 
paid ; and when the work is done and accepted, all that 
remains unpaid of the bonus shall be handed over to 
those who will have so nobly earned it. 

By adopting this plan, the rivalries of routes will be 
made to work for, instead of working against, the con- 
struction of the road. Strenuous efibrts will be made 
by the friends of each to put tli em selves in position to 
bid low enough to secure the location ; and the lowest 
17 



386 A KAILKOAD TO THE PACIFIC. 

rate at which the work can safely be undertaken will 
unquestionably be bid. The road will be the property 
of the company constructing it, subject only to the 
rights of use, stipulated and paid for by the government. 
And, even were it to cost the latter a bonus of fully fifty 
millions, I feel certain that every farthing of that large 
Bum will have been reimbursed to the treasury w^ithin 
five years after the completion of the work in the pro- 
ceeds of land sales, in increased postages, and in duties 
on goods imported, sold, and consumed because of this 
railroad — not to speak of the annual saving of millions 
in the cost of transporting and supplying troops. 

Men and brethren ! let us resolve to have a railroad 
to the Pacific — to have it soon. It will add more to the 
strength and wealth of our country than would the 
acquisition of a dozen Cubas. It will prove a bond of 
union not easily broken, and a new spring to our national 
hidustry, prosperity and wealth. It will call new manu- 
factures into existence, and increase the demand for the 
products of those already existing. It will open new 
vistas to national and to individual aspiration, and crush 
out filibusterism by giv^ing a new and wholesome direc- 
tion to the public mind. My long, fatiguing journey 
was undertaken in the hope that I might do something 
toward the early construction of the Pacific Railroad ; 
and I trust that it has not been made wholly in vain. 



Gentle Dora ! ! -Bash; ng Maggie ! ! 



MRS. MARY J. HOLMES' NEW STORIES, 

DOHA DEANE and MAGGIE MlllEFv 

In One neat 12mo. Volume. 474 pages. Price $1.00. 



Mrs. Holmes endeavors to touch the heart, to take what is pure and excellent ard 
hold it HI) to the render in contrast with what is vile and deceptive. And in this she 
excels. The fireside, we are sure, will thank, her heartily for these books, and preserve 
them with reliirions strictness, for they arc entertaining as well as instructive.— iW70 
York Coriim,er\:ial Times. 

The two tales in thi< new volume are delishtfiil, and will be well received by the 
many who have derived so much entertainment from their predecessors. — Boston Trav. 

There is an air of tru'hfulness in her common-sense style, an ab-ence of exHsru'eration 
and of hi^h colorinir, which conveys a sense of repose to the mind which has fed on the 
artificial stimulus of excitins novels. Her womanly gentleness wins the heart, and her 
charming fancy throws a spell over the imagination. — Detroit Free Press. 

The incidents in both these stories are such as pertain to daily experience, and on 
that account they brini: out more touchingly the traits of individuals in whom the 
autlior determines to interest her readers. Iler knowledge of the human heart, in 
childhood, and in the multiform trials of woman's lot, gives her the power of an expe- 
rienced artist.— iV. 1'. Express. 

She ha? the happy faculty of enlisting the sympathies and affections of lier readers, 
and of holding their attention to her pages with deep and absorbing interest — Albany 
Timet. 

The two stories which make up this volume—" Dora Deane" and " Maggie Miller"— 
have the elements of as wide a popularity as either of their predecessors. She wields a 
graceful and grapliic pen. Her ciiaracters are c-kilfully portrayed, and she never fails 
to win and retain the good opinion of her reader.s. She has not failed in this agreeable 
volume. — Detroit Advertiser. 

These stories are told in her best manner. " Maggie Miller" will be found particu- 
Virly interesting. The ciiaracters are finely drawn, and the incidents are life-like and 
truthful. — Lowell Vox Popidi. 

The stories in this volume will be read by every lover of fiction with unadulterated 
eatisfaetion. As a student of human character Mrs. ITohnes has few equals and her 
descriptive faculties are of a superior order. " Maggie Miller" especially demonstrates 
this fact Some of its passages, a.s specimens of spirited composition, are seldom 
excelled.— Tz-oy Times. 

The two i^tories in the work before us are among the most entertaining the talented 
authoress has ever written ; there is, throughout both, a charm and a beauty which 
cannot fail to please, and they have not a dull page within them. The characters are 
.'^kfiched with a master pen — not overwrought, but yet so earnestly life-like as to be full 
cf interest — and an easy grace pervades the wb jle. — Lawrence Americaji. 



Also ready, uniform in style wUh the above, Neio Editions of 

LENA RIVERS, 416 pages, 12mo. $1.00 

HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE, 380 pages, 12mo. $1.00 

MEADOW BROOK ; or, ROSA LEE, 380 pages, 12mo. $1.00 

MKS. 5IOI.MES' WORKS, 
Cniform style, 4 vols., scarlet cloth, $4.00.-4 vols., half-calf, $6.00 



Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postage paid, upon 
roreipt of the price. 

C. M. SAXTOW, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 

25 Parle Poxjo, New TorJc. 



A Book which will not be fer gotten. 

'LENA EIVERS 



BY MAIvY J. HOLMKS, 

est and Sunshine,'" "The English Orphans," 
on the nillside," etc. etc 

In One Volume, 416 Pag^es, 12uio. Price $1 00. 



A.athor of "Tempest and Sunshine,'" "The English Orphans," " The Homestead 
on the nillside," etc. etc 



As the social and domestic relations are the great sources of happi- 
ess, or its opposites, so tliose romances that properly treat of those re- 
ations — of the virtues that adorn, and of the vices that deform them 
— are clearly the most interesting, impressive, and useful. 

'LEVA RIVERS is an American Domestic Story, unveiling in a mas- 
terly manner the sources of social and domestic eujo^^ment, or of dis- 
quiet and misery. By intermarriages of New England and Kentucky 
parties, a field is opened to exhibit both Yankee and Southern domestic life, 
for which the talented authoress was well prepared, being of Yankee 
birth and early education, and having subsequently resided in the South 
She was thus especially fitted to daguerreotype the strictly domestic 
and social peculiarities of both sections. 

'LENA RIVERS AND THE PRESS. 

A work of unusual promise. Mrs. Holmes possesses an enviable talent in the study of 
American character, which is so perfectly developed by acute observation from life, tiiat 
it would now be impossible for her to write an uninteresting book. — Phila. Sat. Btdlelin, 

There still lingers the artist-mind, enlivening, cheering, and consoling by happy 
thoughts and pleasant words; moving the heart alternately to ^oy or sorrow, convulsing 
witlilaughter, or bringing tears to the eyes. — Rudieder Amencan. 

The characters are well drawn, and the tale is one of interest It will find many well 
pleased readers. — Alhany iStatesrnan,. 
The story is simple, natural, truthful. — RocJiester DaUy Advertiser. 
Before wo were aware, we had read the first two chapters. We read on — and axx — and 
it was long after midniuht when we finished the volume. We could not leave it We 
know of no wurK. with which we could compare "'Lena Kivers" — so as to form a just 
estimation of its merits. — 2rerrickvills Chronicle. 
It is not the first of tl>e author"s works, but it is the ha&i.— State Register. 
To the sex we commend it, on the assurance of its merit, volunteered to us by ladies 
in whose critical acumen we have the fullest confidence. — Buffalo Express. 

The story opens in Now England, and is continued in Kentucky, with very lively and 
characteristic sketches of sceriery and character in both States, it is both good and in- 
teresting. — New York Daily fimes. 

The moral of the plot is excellent Cowardly virtue, as exhibited by 'Lena's father, 
may here learn a lesson without sutfering his bitter experience; while the rashness of 
vouth may be warned against desperate acta, before a perfect understanding is liad. — Neit 
Bedford Express. 

This is fin American novel possessing merit far superior to many which have been 
oublished during the last two years. The delineations of cliar.icter are neatly and accu 
.-ately drawn, and the tale is a deeply interesting one, containing many and varied inci 
1ents. illustrative of the workings of the hninan mind, and of social and domestic life ir 
lifferent parts of this country. The'lesson to be deduced from its pages is a profitable 
)ne — which is more than can be said of many novels of the day. — Portfolio. 

The scene of this tale is in Kentucky, although NiW England figures in it somewhat, 
ind New Knglanders still more largely. It is written in a lively style, and the intc.<'.->t 
s not allowed to flag till the story terminates. One of the best things in tlic book ,s its 
Bly and admirable hits at American aristocracj'. It quietly shows some of '"the i)lobeian 
•ocaiion," wliieb have, early or late, been con'nected with the " first families," aisf" gives 
us a peep behind the curtain into the private life of those who are often objects of envy. 

Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies mailed, post paid, on recci|)i t-l 
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25 Park Jiow, Nenc York. 



Natural, Truthful, and Enticing 



HOMESTEAD 01 THE HILLSIDE. 

BY MRS. MARY J. HOLMKS, 

The Popular Author of "Tempest and Sunshine" and "The English Orphans." 
In One Volume, 380 Pages, 1 2mo. Price $1 00. 

The numerous and delishted readers of "Tempikt ani> Scinsiiine" and "The En- 
oJsHOKJ^iANs'-Mrs. Holmes' former works-will be pleased to learn that another 
w"rk of te^r favorite author is a^rain within their reach That this work wdl be ea- 
ZrW Roiicht and widely read, her former brilliant success affords the surest ^uarany. 
^ Mrs ?I<ime; s a^^^^^^^^^ and fascinating writer. Her subjects are the home 

and fami V delations. She has the happy faculty of enlistmix the sympathies and atfec- 
S.ns of her readers and of holding their attention to her pages, with deep and absorbin<r 
invest Tlic SiomeNtead on tUe Hillside is, therefore, attracting the- 
liveliest attention ; and readers and 

REVIEWERS ARE DECIDED IN ITS PRAISE. 

Anv one takin^ up the book must take a " through ticket," as there is no stopplni: 
nli^e'^'this side" of the last page. The arts of the designing woman are given in he., 
friie color showing to what oily-tongued hypocrisy hun.anity wi 1 s oop for the further- 
ance of its purposes ; what a vast amount of unhappincss one individual may bring up- 
SS an otherwise happy family; what untold misery may result from the groveling spin 
Sf fancied revenge, when cherished in the bosom of its unhappy post^ssor.-Brockport 
Gazette. 




hi 

oShmry production.— P/u^«rfeZijAia i)(t'i^?/ A'^&ii'*. 

Vi-or varietv a boldness and freedom of style and expression, eccentricity alike of 
character ar.d il.cident, are among its most striking peculiarities, bhe has itnproved in 
fhe book before us, upon her first effort, and several of these tales will not fail to add to 
her already well established reputation as a vigorous and attracUve writer.-5os<. AUas. 
The artfulness and resignation exhibited by the Widow Carter, in her modest but not 
nnna?ural e .r^vu s to sain the tender regard of Mr. Hamilton, as she smoothed the pil- 
Tow of his dvin- wife, deserve the especial attention of gentlemen liable to a like attempt 
from a similar cause. Thev will doubtless see a dozen widows in the very dress and po- 
sition of the philanthropic Mrs. Carter. There ie quite a moral for young Misses, too, id 
the book."— A^. 1'. Dutchman. 
It cannot fail to please the lovers of flowing and graceful naxr&ixv 6.— TribxtM. 
It will be superfluous to say that Mrs. Holmes is a charming writer.— 7Vti<J Flag. 
Its eenial spirit, its ready wit, its kindly feeling, will doubtless meet with due appreci- 
ation from al its readers. It touches with ready sympa hy the fountains of mirth and 
tears and one can neither restrain the one nor withhold the other, in reading its tales of 
joy and s,OTro\\.— Broome Rejmb. 

Wc have perused this book with none but feelings of pleasure ; arid we have closed it.'j 
pages. Ei?g in our heart its sweet spirit and eloquent moral. We heartily commend 
It.— Lockjwri Courier. 

Her portrayal of human character and actions are admirable; her style is fluent ai.d 
fascinating, and a most intense degree of interest is kept up throughout the volume 
But among all itj excellent qualities, most prominent appears its eloquent monUs.Keac 
It, 80 fhat you can have it to say, « I onoe eead a good nnoKr-LockpoH Dmwcrnt 
Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postpaid, upon 
receipt of the price. 

C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 

25 Park Row, New York. 



ftuiet, Gentle, Home-like, Earnest, Truthful. 



MEADOW BlIOOK; or, ROSA LEE. 

BY MARY J. HOLMES, 

Author of " 'Lena Eivers," " Homestead on the Ilillside," etc., etc. 
One Volume, l!^ino, 3S0 pages. Price $1 00. 



OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

No admirer of Mrs. Holmes' writings will thank us for a " critical" opinion of this, 
Ler latest and best work. The time for such a ibinsr has gone by. But surely they will 
pardon us if we dwell lingeringly and lovingly over one or two of her characters: — tlie 
angel-like Jessie, the rightly-named Angel of tl e Pines, who, thougli a child, went 
about like a ministering angel, when all others had fled the pestilence that walked at 
noonday, and at last fell before its withering stroke. Surely, if a tear falls here., it falls 
in the right place. And then Rosa: — Rosa at thirteen the sclioolmistress and in love. 
One year after, Rosa the governess was again in love, llow we are interested in tlie 
tangled web of her life-experionce. and how we rejoice when at last the orange-flowers 
crown her brow, and the storm-tossed barque readies the sure haven of repose: 
"The blessins given, the ring is on ; 
And at God's altar radiant run 
The currents of two lives in one." 
Ada, the deceiving, merits our scorn ; Ada, the dissipated, somewhat of our pity. Dr. 
Clayton we despi.^e for his fickleness, honor for his after-manliness, and congratulate for 
ills eventual happiness. — National American. 

We have read this book with no little satisfaction, for it has a reality about it that 
touches a spot not always sensitive to descriptions written with more pretence and lite- 
rary style. It is particularly attractive to one with a New-England experience, as its 
ijarlier chapters are drawn from life in the country portions of tliat region, and tho^e 
immediately following are laid in Boston. "VVe do not mean to intimate that the book 
is carelessly written, but that it is '"the touch of nature that makes all men kin"' that is 
its especial charm. It docs not read like a romance, but like a calm narration by some 
friend of events occurring in a circle of one's old friends, and the intense interest with 
which we follow the naiiative seems to be rather from personal feeling than from the 
usuaI false excitement of tlie overstrained sentimentalities of most of the modern works 
of fiction which "read like a book." — Newark Advertiser. 

Our friends in the novel-reading line will gladly hail a new work called " Meadow 
Brook," by Mrs. Mary J. Holmes, author of " Tempest and Sunshine," and several other 
well-known and i)opular works. " Meadow Brook" is an exceedingly attractive book, 
and one that will alternately call forth smiles and tears. The chapters delineating tho 
life of the youthful " school-ma'am." and her experience in " boarding round," may be 
termed "rich" in every sense of the word. We doubt if their equal can be met with in 
any of the novels of the present day. The after-life of Rosa Lee, the heroine of Meadow 
Brook, will be found to be of equal, if not of superior interest to the earlier part, so 
graphically delineated in the first half-dozen chapters. — Protndence Journal. 

Many of her characters might be, if they are not, drawn from life. We have met a 
little Jessie whose bright, sweet face, winning ways, and sunny, happy temper, made 
her a favorite with all who knew her. Jessie Lansing vividly recalls our little Jessie 
who, we hope, is still the sunbeam of her own sweet Southern home. Mrs. Holme? 
draws her pictures from tiie deep wellinjr fountain of her own heart and life, reaching 
our hearts as well as our imaginations, and will always meet a cordial reception when- 
ever she appears. — Binghamton Republican. 

"Meadow Brook" is a plain story of American life and American people, with capita' 
illustrations of American habits and manners. . . The story is a well-written common- 
sense affair, containing much that will please the reader. Nothing is distorted or over- 
drawn, but all is calculated to impress the reader with a fceZi^/'ln the writer — that is 
that she is telling a true tale. — Rochester Advertiser. ^ 

Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postage pcad, upon 
receipt of the price. 

C. M. SAXTON, BARKER «& CO., PubHshers, 

25 P<n-7c Row, New York 



LIFE OF EmM CLAY, 

BY HORACE GREELEY AND EPES SAEGEANT. 

"But there are deeds which should not pass away, 
And names which should not wither." 

One Volume, 428 pp. 12mo., Steel Portrait, Muslin, Price $1,25 

Wiiile the jonth of America should imitate his noble qiiali ties, tliey 
•nay take courage from his career, and note the hish proof it affords tliat, under our 
(?qual institutions, the avenues of hon 'r are open to all. Mr. Clay rose by the force of 
bis own genius, unaided by power, pad onau'e, or wealth. At an age when our voun" 
men are usually advanced to the highi^r schools of learning, provided only with the ru- 
diments of an Enslish education, he turned his steps to the West, and, amidst the rude 
collisions of a border life, matured a character wiiose hisrhest exhibitions were destined 
to mark eras in his country s hist.>ry. Beginning on the frontiers of American civiliza- 
tion, the orphan boy. supported only by the consciousness of his own powers, and by 
the confidence of the people, surmounted all the barriers of adverse fortune, arul \v,.n a 
glorious name in the annuls of iiis countr)'-. Let the generous youth, fired with honora- 
ble ambition, remember that the American system of government oflfers on every hand 
bounties to merit. If, like Clay, orphanage, obscurity, poverty, shall oppress him ; yt-t, 
if, like Clay, he feels the Promethean spark within, let him remember that his "oun'trv, 
like a generous mother, extends her arms to welcome and to cherish every o • .' ^l^t 
children whose genius and worth m.ay i)romote her prosperity or increase her renoA.' 



BEING THE ABOVE, TO WHICH IS ADDED 

niS MOST ABLE AND POPULAR SPEECHES. 

Steel Portrait, 633 pp. 8vo., Muslin, $2 GO; Morocco, Marble Edge. $2-50. 

'•The rush of native eloquence, resistless as Niagara, 
The keen demand, the clear reply, the fine poetic imase, 
The nice analogy, the clenching fact, the metaphor, bold and free, 
The grasp of concentrated intellect, wielding the omnipotence of truth, 
Upon whose lips the mystic bee hath dropped the honey of persuasion." 

As a leader in a deliberative body, Mr. Clay had no equal in Amer 
lea. In him. intellect, person, eloquence and courage, uiiited to form a character fit to 
command. He fired with his own enthusiasm, and controlled by his amazing will. Indi- 
viduals and masses. No reverse could crush his spirit, nor defeat reduce him to des- 
pair. Equally erect and dauntless in prosperity and adversity, when successful, he 
moved to the accomplishment of his purposes with severe resolution; when defeated 
he rallied his broken bands around him, and from his eagle-eye sliot alon:; their rank 
the contagion of his own courage. Destined for a leader, he everywhere asserted liia 
lestiny. In his lonsr and eventful life, he came in contact with men of all ranks and pro- 
fessions, but he never felt that he was in the presence of a man superior to himself. In 
th 5 assemblies of the people, at the bar, in the Senate — everywhere withm the circle 
ijf his personal presence, he assumed and maintained a position of pre-eminence. 

Sold b}' all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, to any address, upon receipt of price. 

C. M. SAXTO]Sr, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 

'2o Pdric L'inc. Xeiv York 



THE SOOI£ OF THE AGE. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A LIFETIME, 

OR 

MEN AND THINGS I HAVE SEEN IN EUROPE AND AMERICA. 
BY S. G. GOODRICH, 

The veritable " Peter Parley," author of "The History of All Nations," &c. &c. 
[n two volumes, 1105 pp. large 12mo., 25 Original Engravings, including 

an accurate >tcel I'orirait of the Autlior. Price, lilack or Scarlet 

Cloth, $3 GO ; Scarlet Cloth, Gilt Ed^^es, $4 00 ; Half Calf, Marble 

Edges, $5 00 ; Full Calf, Gilt Edges, |7 00. 

This work embraces the prominent public events of the last half century, both at home 
and abroad ; a complete Autobiography of the author— his early days, education, and lit- 
erary career; and an amount of original curious, and valuable Perhonal Incident, Anec- 
dote, and Description, seldom, if ever, met with in a single work. It is the Authors 
Life-long Woek. and nothing superior, if anything equal to it, in blended amusement 
and instruction, has ever been published. Mr. Goodrich is the author and editor of 
170 VoJisJues, of whicli over si^veai millioiss of copies have been sold! and 
this, the great work of his life, embodies the condensed substance of his ample Literavy 
and J'ractieal Eicperience ; the Warunth England in 1812-14, in which ^Ir. Goodrich 
was a private soldier; the I/art/drd Convention, whose operations took place under his 
immediate observation, and with most of the members of which he was personally ac- 
quainted. Embracing curious and interesting details respecting Old Jeffer.sunian De- 
mocracy, Old Feder<di>^m. and Connecticut Blue Lig/iis ; curious and marvellous 
events connected with the rise and progress of Keligious Sects in the United States; 
■with descriptions of the French Revolution o/lS48, and Louis Napoleo7i''!i Coup d'Etat, 
both of which the autlior witnessed. Also, a full account of the "PETER PAELEY>" 
TALES," of which Four Millions have been sold. 

In the course <>f the work will be found a Gallery <>/" Pen and Ink Portraits of 
over Two Jliindred CelebratM P^rswts— Presidents, Vice-Presidents. Kings, Queens, 
Emperors. So'diers, PoeK Wits. Enthusiasts, Physicians. Preachers, Lawyers, Politi- 
cians, Diplomatists, Ac— all described from personal acquaintance or observation— among 
whom are the following: 

George IV. Lamartine, Henry Clay, Dukeof Wellington, Benjamin West, 
William IV. Victor Huiro, Dan"l Webster, Lord Brougham, Fenimore Cooper, 
Prince Albert, Alex. Dumas, M. Van Buren, Sir J. Mackintosh, Percival, 
Queen Victoria Mad. Catalini. M. Fillmore, Kinir Rhio Rhio, or Brainerd, 
Bir W. Scott, Mad. Malibran, J. C. Fremont, Dog of Dogs, Willis, 

Lord Jeffrey, Pasta, General Scott, Louis Phillippe, Hawthorne, 

J. G. Lockhart, Talma, Prof Silliman, Louis Nai)olei)n, Mrs. Sigourney, 

W. Blackwood Mile. Mars, Eli Whitney. Thos. A. Emmett, Miss Sedgwick, 
Hannah More. Rachel, Judge Kent. Bishop Seahury, Mrs. Child, 

Dr Chalmers, Ristori, Geo. Cabot, Bishop Wainwright, Charles Sprague, 

Edw. Irving, Pope Pius IX. H.G.Otis. Dr. Ma'^on. Longfellow, 

Thos. Hood, Pres't Monroe, Jas. Hillhouse, Dr. Romeyn, Pierpont, 

Louis XVIII. J. Q. Adams, Uriah Tracy, Archibald Gracie, T. Buchanan Eeed 
Charks X. Dr. Dwight, Nath'l Smith, Minot Sherman, Jacob Perkins. 
To all which is added, the Author's recent 

ANECDOTES OF TRAVEL, 

In England, Scotland. Ireland, France and Italy, together with a Complete CATALOon 
\)Y THE Author's Works, now for the first time published ; with curious commeniariiv 
on the Counterfeit Parley Books, got up in London. 

SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
Singla Copies mailed, POST-PAID, to any address. 
Published hy 

C. M. SAXTON, BAJELKEK & CO., Publisher?, 

'Hb Park Row, AV« ) .- k. 



LOUIS lAPOLEOI, 

AND THE 
COMPRISING A 

HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, 
THE CAEEEE OF NAPOLEON, THE EESTOEATION OF THE BOUE- 
BONS, THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE, THE LIFE AND CA- 
EEEE OF LOUIS NAPOLEON, AND THE CAUSES, EVENTS, 
AND CONSEQUENCES OF THE CEIMEAN WAE. 

BY HENRY W. DE PUY, 

AUTHOR OF " KOSSUTH AND HIS GKNEEALS," " ETHAN ALLEN," ETC. 

One Volume, 457 pp. 12mo., with Steel Portraits of Louis 
Napoleon and the Empress Eugenie. Price $1 25. 

^ 

The foregoing is an interesting and a reliable history of the Bona- 
parte family, from the dawn of its celebrity to the present time. It 
contains a biography, not only of Napoleon I., Napoleon III., and of the 
other members and branches of that distinguished family, but also of 
other prominent actors in French affairs, with such a sketch of French 
history as is necessary to the proper connection and clear understand- 
ing of the work. 

EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWERS^ 

The Bonaparte family is one of the most remarkable that has ever appeared on the 
earth. Its origin was so humble, its elevation so rapid and dazzling, its i)Ower so great, 
its fall so signal and low, its re-appearance in the person of Louis" Napoleon so unex- 
pected and potent, and its future so portentous, ttiat it at once arrests the attention of 
the modern historian, and audaciously takes its place in the very foreground of his 
canvas. 

We are not aware that any author has before attempted to present tlie entire Bona- 
parte family in one concise, yet clear and satisfactory volume. It is a work long needed, 
and for which every intelligent person constantly feels a pressing necessity. Hence we 
heartily welcome the work before us. Its method is excellent, its breadth and grasp 
very remarkable, and the style lucid and brilliant. The engravings are superior, and 
type, [taper, and binding excellent. — Taunton Democrat. 

An interesting and instructive voluma The author has given a graphic description 
of the career of the great Napoleon, free from that excessive tlattery which distisiruishea 
the work of Abbott^ and the scarcely less brilliant career of Louis Napoleon is set forth 
with admirable succinctness and truthfulness. The work comprises the history of 
France, and in fact of Europe, from the revolution of "89 to the present time, of whicii 
the misfortunes and successes of Louis Philippe form a most interesting chapter. The 
biographical notices of the most distinguished characters that participated in public af- 
fairs during that period, is also a valuable feature of the work. — Uem. Ea'pounder. 

The style of the author is popular and attractive, and his book blends the interest of 
history with that of biograiihy. Tortraits of the present Emperor and of the Empress 
Eugenie, finely engraved, adorn the volume, whicli is handsomely issued in all respects. 
—Boston TekgrapJi. 

The notices of the various members of the Bonaparte family are written with clear- 
ness, as are also the sketches of Louis XVIII., Charles X., Louis Philippe, Theirs, La- 
martine, Guizot, Abdel-Kader, and numerous others whose names are familiar with 
French movements during the jtresent century. The outline of the Russian War is 
impartially given, a commendation which may be generally accorded to the entire vol 
iirae. — Tuomas Fuancis Meagher. 

Sold by all Booksellei-s. Mailed, post-paid, to any address, upon receipt of price. 

C. M. SAXTON, EAKKES, & CO., Publishers, 

'■ill Park. Ih,u\ A'cic Yo. k. 



GREAT AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY! 



WEBSTER 
HIS MASTER-PIECES 

fis f ift anil drmt ^iicfrljxs 

BY B. F. TEFFT, D. D., LT.. D. 
Steel Portrait, Two Volumes, 1032 pp. 12tao. I ^ee, $2 aO« 

THE LIFE EMBRACES 



~ . The Webster Family. 

I. Webster the Boy and Youth. 

3. Webster the Student. 

4 Webster the Lawyer. 

5. Webster in his Domestic Relations. 



6. Webstei the Leg'icUtor. 

7. Webster the Cit'.7.en. 

8. Webster the f'Vrator, 

9. T»ebr>ter the Oi-ator. 

10. Webster the Executive Officer. 



THE SPEECHES EMBRACE 



J Argument in the Dartmouth College 

Ca.<e. 
2. Pi vinoulh Oration — Fii'st Settlement of 

New England. 
S. ?p'eeh on the Greek Eevolution. 

4. Bunker llill Monument Oration. 

5. Funeral Oration — Adams and JeiTerson. 

6. Lecture before Mechanics Institution, 

Boston. 



T. The Character of Washington. 

8. Speech at Niblo's Garden,"New York. 

9. Letter on Imiiressmen'. 

10. Keply to Ilayne on Foot's Resolution. 

11. Constitution not a (.'oirij)act — Reply to 

Calhoun. 

12. Constitution and the Union — 7th of 

Mni'ch Speech. 



We receive these volumes with especial satisfaction. Dr. Teflft's book, we doubt not, 
will be a popular one. It has tiiat brilliancy of touch and that vivacity of style whicli 
are always popular with the great body of readers.- -^osto;!- Traveler. 

Such a life of the great statesman was needed. There is no other as cheap yet elegant 
form in which Webster's great efforts are to be found. They will sell well, we doubt not. 
The more of them there are distributed, the better it is 'or our intelligence, our political 
virtue and the public weal. — N. Y. Times. 

Dr. Tefft has displayed much industry, versatility and discrimination in his biography, 
and prood taste in tiie selection of Mr. Wetster's efforts, and these volumes cauuot but 
meet with a favorable reception from the public. — Boston Atlas. 

There is no doubt but the book will be very generally sought and read by an appre- 
ciating public. It must be regarded as a valuable addition to the standard literary works 
of the times. The author is e.xceedingly happy in his use of langiuige. There is nothing 
laborious, dull or dillicult in the perusal ; but on the contrary, it possesses an affabl'% 
congenial spirit whicli is entirely winning. We have been peculiarly interested wiM. 
(lie de.scription of Mr. Webster's character contained in tlie last ciiapterof the biograpii^ 
T!ie author enters into the subject with Ids whole soul, delineating faithfully tliose traits 
iii'Ciiliar to the man, exi>andingupon those qualities of mind which constituted his great- 
P' s.-\ Tlie work is handsomelj' got up, and is ht to adorn any library. — Buffalo Rep. 

We doubt r» hether a better biography will ever meet the eyes of the student, or en 
••ich the library of the man of lect-^rs. The style .s polished, clear, and interesting ir r 
Mgh degree. — Boston ET.e. Gnzeild. 

The best life of Webster tliat has ever appeared.— J5Mif(r to Democracy. 

Sold by all Bookcdlers. iiailod, post-paid, to any address, upon receipt of price. 
C. M. SAXTOINT, BARKER «& CO., Publishers, 

25 Park Eou\ JVew York. 



Truth is Stranger than Fiction. 



LIFE OF MAM JEMISOI, 



WHITE INDIAN WOMAN OF THE GENESEE 

BY JAMES E. SEAYER, ESQ. 
One Yolume, 312 pp. 12nio., Illustrated. Price 81 00. 

The subject of this remarkable Narrative was taken captive by a 
ftanrl of Shawnees at the early asre of 13 years. She subsequently became the wife of an 
Indian chief, and tlie mother of a large family of Indian children. She lost her civilized 
habits, and resided with her adopted nation for 78 years, always, however, retaining and 
manifesting a constant friendship for the whites. She was granted a reservation of 
J9.000 acres of the richest land in the world, lying in the western part of the State of 
New York. Yet this did not tempt lior to abaiidon her adopted race or habits, to which 
she pertinaciously adhered. The narrative was taken by the author from her own lips, 
and is at once authentic, interesting, and instructive. 

The work is filled with startling incidents from first to last, and cannot fail to instruct 
and interest the general reader. To the lovers of Indian adventure, and particularly to 
ths young, it will prove of great interest, as it conveys a perfect knowledge of the hard- 
ships and trials of the Pioneer Settlers, and should find its way into the libraries of all 
our citizens. 

THK WORK IS AUTHENTIC. 

E. S. Parker, an educated Seneca Chief, under date of March 24, writes as follows: 
'•I perused Seaver's bookAvith great interest, and have had a good opportunity of test- 
ing its reliability, by comparing it with the tr.-ulitional history preserved among the In- 
dians with whom she lived and died; all of which more than corroborates every incident 
related in the narrative. I have, therefore, every reason to believe it to be entirely true." 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

A very interesting book — one that contains sufficient incidents for a romance, and 
which, at the same time, may be regarded as a veritable history. Tiie heroine was taken 
captive by a band of Shawnees in ilbS, at the age of thirteen. She became the wife of 
tliree Indians in successitm, and raised a large family of Indian children. Tier life was 
chequered and eventful in a high degree; she continued to live with the Iroquois 
through all vicissitudes until she died, in 1833. aged ninety-one years. Though sincerely 
attached to the Indians she was always the friend of the white pioneer and early settler. 
In a word, her history, as biographically and agreeably related in this volume, will 
amply repay perusal. — Phil. Daily News. 

Her dress was made and worn after the usual Indian fashion. She had a brown, un- 
dressed flannel short-gown, with long sleeves, the skirt reaching to the hips, being tied 
before in two places with deer-skin strings; below the skirt of the gown was to be seen 
three or four inches of th« lower extremity of a cotton shirt, which was without collar 
or sleeves, and open before. Her petticoat, or the Indian substitute for that garment, 
was composed of about a yard and a quarter of 'blue broadcloth, with the lists on, and 
sewed together at the ends. This was tied around her waist, or rather above her hips, 
under liersiiirt. with a string, in such a manner as to leave one-fourtli of a yard or more 
of the top of the cloth to be turned over the string, and display the top list, and four or 
Sve inches of the cloth below the bottom of the shirt — the main body of the garment and 
khe other list reachiugdown to the calves of her legs; below which was to be seen her 
legsrings, consisting of pieces of blue broadcloth, wrapped around her legs, and tied or 
pinned on, reaching from her knees to just within the tops of her buckskin moccasins. 
She wore no footings or socks on her feet at any season, unless some rags wrapped 
around her toe^ could be considered such. Over her shoulders was wrapped a common 
Indian or Dutch blanket, and on her head she wore an old, brown woolen cloth some* 
what in the shape of a sun-bonnet — Daily Enquirer. 

S'-ld by all Booksellers Mailed, post-paid, to any address, upon receipt of price. 

C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 

2& Furk Hmc, Naiu York. 



THE LIVES 



OF 



THE THREE MHS. JUDSONS, 

Hissioiiarifs to §iima|j. 

BY ARABELLA M. WILLSON. | 

NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. 

COMPLETED TO THE DEATH OF EMILY C. JUDSON. 'L 

Wltb Steel Portraits, 381 pp., 16mo., Muslin. Price $1,25. 



OPINIONS OF REVIEWERS. 

Dr. Judson was not onh' a celebrated man and missionary, but bia 
wives bave been wortby of bim, and, of course, 1iave been celebrated 
women. Man}' of tbe details of tbe missions in which tliese individu- 
als labored, and wliicb are gi^^en in tbeii- separate memoirs, have 
been omitted in this work, and tbe lives and characters of the women 
themselves are set before ns. The circulation of the volume cannot 
but be useful. — CJiurch Herald. 

A rapid examination of the book bas left the impression on our minds 
that the author lias performed her task successful]}' ; weaving faithful 
and graceful narratives out of materials furnislied to ber band by pre- 
vious bi og ra ph ers. — Macedoniayi . 

It will command a wide circulation among the numerous class in our 
community, interested in missionary enterprises. It possesses, also, a 
literaiy value, wbich commends it to tbe public attention. — Transcript. 

It is one effect of the missionary cause that it has given to the church 
and the world son;ie of the finest models of female character. Not a small 
number of American ladies who might have spent their lives in circum- 
stauces of ease, and in circles of refinement, in their own country, have 
cheerfully surrendered everything to the conviction of duty, and bave 
gone to live and die in heathen lands ; and in thus devoting themselves 
to the best of causes, they have become examples of glowing and hero- 
ic fortitude in lionor of Christ, which may be considered as marking 
a new epoch in the history of their sex. Dr. Judson's three Avives, of 
whom we bave an interesting account in this volume, belong to tliis 
favored class of females ; and no Christian can read these sketches 
without feeling that eacb of them is deservedly embalmed in the grat- 
itude of the church. They differed essentially in some of their natural 
qualities, but they were alike in the <)ne grand point, of entire devotion 
to the missionary work. There is little danger of multiplying judicious 
works of this kind beyond the demand. — Puritan Recorder. 
SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLLKS. 
Single Copies mailed, POST-PAID, to any add-ress. 

Publisacd by 

O. M. SAXTCIT, BAEKEIl & CO., Publishers, 

25 Park Emo, New York. 









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